i    THI     % 


THE   HUMAN   BODY. 


THE  HUMAN  BODY 


AND  ITS 


CONNECTION   WITH   MAN, 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  THE  PRINCIPAL  ORGANS. 


BY 

JAMES  JOHN  GARTH  WILKINSON. 

MEMBER  OF  THE  ROYAL  COLLEGE  OF  SURGEONS  OF  ENGLAND. 


"He  cried  with  a  loud  voice,  Lazarus,  come  forth.  And  he  that  was  dead  came 
forth,  bound  hand  and  foot  with  grave-clothes :  and  his  face  was  bound  about  with 
a  napkin.    Jesus  saith  unto  them,  Loose  him,  and  let  him  go." 


PHILADELPHIA: 
LIPPINCOTT,   GRAMBO  AND   CO., 

SUCCESSORS  TO  GRIGG,  ELLIOT  AND  CO. 

1851. 


M**.JEbjr 


PHILADELPHIA \ 
T.  K.  AND  P.  G.  COLLINS,  PRINTERS. 


CJ 


^ 
^i 


CONTENTS 


Page 

Dedication, vii 

Preface, ix 

The  Human  Brain, 25 

The  Human  Lungs, 83 

Assimilation  and  its  Organs, 132 

The  Human  Heart, 169 

The  Human  Skin, 252 

The  Human  Form, 289 

Health, 343 

Appendix, 407 


1* 


TO 

HENRY  JAMES,  Esq.,  of  New  York. 

My  Dear  James — 

This  book  is  indebted  to  you  for  its  appearance ;  for, 
without  you,  it  would  neither  have  been  conceived  nor  exe- 
cuted. I  dedicate  it  to  you  as  a  feeble  tribute  of  friendship 
and  gratitude  that  would  gladly  seek  a  better  mode  of 
expressing  themselves.  It  may  remind  you  of  happy  hours 
that  we  have  spent  together,  and  seem  to  continue  some  of 
the  tones  of  our  long  correspondence.  Valeat  quantum  ! 
It  could  not  lay  its  head  upon  the  shelf  without  a  last 
thought  of  affection  directed  to  its  foster  parent.  That 
prosperity  may  live  with  you  and  yours,  and  your  great 
Commonwealth,  is  the  prayer  of, 

My  dear  James, 

Your  faithful  friend, 
JAMES  JOHN  GARTH  WILKINSON. 

St.  John's  Wood,  London, 
•      May  25,  1851. 


PREFACE. 


At  the  end  of  a  work,  an  author  writes  the  preface  or  beginning, 
unable  to  neglect  the  law  which  urges  that  extremes  shall  meet. 
Prefaces  need  no  apology,  and  a  reader  intending  to  study  a  book, 
does  not  do  himself  justice  unless  he  peruses  them.  A  preface  gives 
the  author's  last  conception  of  his  aim — the  most  comprehensive 
eye  with  which  he  see  it.  And  unless  the  reader  looks  through  this 
eye,  he  cannot  enter  into  the  author's  mind.  The  study  of  a  book 
is  the  temporary  putting  on  of  the  faculties  and  insights  of  another ; 
and  the  sooner  the  assumption  takes  place,  the  sooner  the  reader  be- 
gins to  read  aright. 

To  assist  this  we  have  a  few  remarks  to  make  that  may  prepare 
in  some  measure  for  the  following  pages. 

We  labor  under  difficulty  in  procuring  the  right  audience  for  the 
present  discourse.  The  subject  of  which  it  treats  has  been  so  much 
narrowed  to  a  class,  that  on  the  one  hand  that  class,  the  medical 
profession,  claims  it  as  an  exclusive  knowledge;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  the  public  mind  is  in  abeyance  with  regard  to  it,  and  looks 
upon  it  as  a  property  for  ever  alienated  from  its  possession.  We 
therefore  run  the  risk  of  finding  no  readers,  unless  we  can  persuade 
the  public  that  the  knowledge  of  the  human  body  belongs  to  every 
man,  woman  and  child,  and  has  no  more  necessary  connection  with 
physic,  than  with  art,  industry,  philosophy,  divinity,  or  any  of  the 
other  occupations  that  we  do  in  the  body,  and  by  the  body.  To 
write  a  treatise  on  the  subject  through  which  this  persuasion  shall 
run  with  vigorous  consequences,  has  been  a  leading  motive  with  us 
in  the  present  work. 

Persons  for  the  most  part  have  no  idea  that  the  sciences  belong  to 
the  great  world  in  the  first  place,  and  that  the  classes  who  are  active- 
ly cultivating  them,  are  but  little  bands  of  pioneers,  that  are  con- 


X  PEEFACE. 

tending  with  difficulties  at  the  out  posts,  and  slowly  winning  a  new 
magnitude  of  knowledge,  which  as  soon  as  it  is  settled,  belongs 
afresh  to  the  large  country  of  popular  common  sense.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  allow  each  party  of  settlers  to  hoist  the  flag  of  a  petty 
kingdom  of  their  own,  without  insisting,  as  ought  to  be  done,  that 
the  adventurers  shall  at  once  become  the  colonies  of  the  mother 
/state.  Thus  it  is  that  professors  of  all  kinds  have  kidnapped  the 
sciences,  and  the  people  fear  to  take  so  much  as  a  walk  under  the 
walls  of  these  bristling  strongholds.  But  scientific  feudalism  is  evi- 
dently about  to  pass  away. 

This  desirable  result  will  be  accomplished  by  the  growth  of  large 
towns,  that  is  to  say,  popular  doctrines,  of  the  sciences,  which  will 
belong  to  the  broad  industry  and  insights  of  mankind,  and  will  not 
contest,  but  swallow  up,  the  castles  of  the  present  chiefs,  and  reverse 
the  feodal  direction  of  duties  and  fines.  Already  we  have  seen  the 
process  going  on  in  the  history  of  civilization,  and  we  are  about  to 
witness  the  same  thing  in  the  progress  of  science  and  of  thought. 

It  may  take  place  somewhat  as  follows.  The  masters  of  science 
will  pursue  their  own  way,  warm  in  their  little  senates,  and  cheered 
by  their  subjacent  schools;  satisfied  with  perfectionating  the  chairs 
into  which  they  have  been  inducted.  They  will  gather  useful  facts, 
and  more  and  more  comprehensive  formulas,  and  appealing  to  rarer 
and  rarer  qualities  in  their  scholars,  be  most  out  of  sight  when  they 
are  most  at  home,  until  at  length,  by  extremity  of  cleverness,  th&y 
will  become  invisible  to  all  but  adepts.  Lords  of  the  last  ether  of 
things,  they  will  only  exist  as  influences,  and  not  as  appreciable 
substances.  In  the  mean  time  the  people,  happily  unconscious,  will 
listen  to  flesh  and  blood,  which  seems  to  talk  to  them  about  them- 
selves. Abstractions  will  have  sailed  away  to  the  flying  island  of 
the  professors,  who  will  exert  a  strong  attraction  upon  the  whole 
wealth  of  the  world's  inanitions.  A  clear  stage  and  sward  of  com- 
mon sense  will  then  be  at  the  popular  disposal,  and  the  problem  of 
universal  education  may  be  conceived  upon  new  grounds.  The 
safeguard  of  the  people  will  be  this — that  when  the  learned  have 
done  their  best,  it  is  no  matter  to  them;  their  hearts  will  be  unse- 
duced,  and  their  brows  unterrified,  by  the  lordliest  and  most  capti- 
vating formulas.     One  or  two  plain  Johnsonian  stampings  on  the 


PREFACE.  XI 

ground,  will  be  sufficient  to  convince  them  that  their  ignorance  and 
carelessness  on  these  scores  is  most  invulnerable  and  sublime. 

But  here  comes  a  knot  claiming  Deus  inter  sit.  Nor  can  the 
difficulties  of  man  be  without  a  response  from  the  mercy-seat :  new 
thoughts  and  new  persons  will  come  speeding  to  make  new  things 
possible.  Already  we  see  that  the  whole  of  the  sciences  may  reap- 
pear on  the  popular  side.  The  waning  moon  of  the  schools  gives 
place  to  the  full-orbed  Dian  of  a  more  generous  light.  All  the 
common  truths  that  have  been  neglected  since  the  foundation  of 
philosophy;  the  stones  that  the  builders  have  rejected;  that  great 
orthodoxy  that  has  bided  its  time  while  ages  of  conceit  were  cuffing 
against  its  serene  face,  will  rise  out  of  land  and  sea,  and  out  of 
the  graves  of  the  hearts  of  many  generations,  and  come  in  hosts 
such  as  no  man  can  number  to  the  people  in  their  hour  of  need. 
The  doctrine  of  final  causes,  which  is  G-od  in  the  sciences,  and 
which  atheism  hates,  will  ramble  over  the  pleasant  fields,  and  teach 
them  to  childhood  as  a  book ;  and  out  of  its  mouth  will  come 
lessons  of  order  and  fitness,  which  will  make  the  world  as  familiar 
as  a  father's  and  a  mother's  house. 

We  find  it  to  be  a  law,  when  a  branch  of  knowledge  has  been 
cultivated  for  ages,  and  still  remains  inaccessible  to  the  world  at 
large,  that  its  principles  are  not  high  or  broad  enough,  and  that  some- 
thing radically  deeper  is  demanded.  If  it  does  not  interest  uni- 
versal man,  that  is  sufficient  to  prove  the  point.  This  law  is  illus- 
trated by  many  things,  and  particularly  by  the  history  of  the  arts. 

Once  upon  a  time  all  books  were  perpetuated  by  copying  with 
the  hand;  whoever  would  possess  a  volume,  must  undergo  the  toil 
of  transcribing  it,  or  pay  the  price  of  that  to  another.  This  was 
the  narrowness  of  the  circle  of  the  learned.  The  perfection  of  the 
copyist's  art  was  soon  attained,  but  the  utmost  rapidity  and  cheap- 
ness in  this  mode  of  multiplying  books,  could  not  render  them  to 
the  mass  of  the  public.  How  was  the  seeming  impossibility  to  be 
surmounted?  By  some  meaner  process,  which  should  deteriorate 
the  appearance  of  books  to  a  degree  commensurate  with  the  humble 
fortunes  of  the  poor;  so  that  if  the  rich  man's  Bible  cost  him  £30, 
a  copy  of  but  one  sixtieth  the  excellence  should  be  produced  for  one 
sixtieth  the  sum  ?     Far  from  it  indeed !     The  means  of  making  the 


Xll  PREFACE. 

poor  man  a  proprietor  of  books,  lay  in  a  glorious  new  art  that 
clothed  all  literature  in  a  bodily  frame  of  surpassing  beauty  and 
usefulness,  and  placed  it  in  the  hands  of  the  common  people  in  a 
form  that  before  the  invention  of  printing  the  greatest  kings  would 
have  envied;  and  which  even  Virgil  or  Cicero  would  not  have  dis- 
dained as  the  material  pedestal  of  their  immortality.  This  art, 
simpler  and  more  universal  than  writing,  was  not  lower  but  im- 
measurably higher  than  its  predecessor,  whose  services  were  for  the 
noble  and  the  learned. 

Another  illustration :  The  means  of  locomotion  or  material  pro- 
gress— what  is  their  history  ?  Up  to  a  recent  date  the  coaches  and 
high-roads  furnished  nearly  the  only  mode  of  land  traveling.  Jour- 
neys by  them  were  restricted  to  a  small  portion  of  the  community. 
The  more  the  coaches  were  perfected,  and  the  better  horsed,  the 
more  expensive  and  select  they  became.  How  shall  we  popularize 
traveling  ?  By  a  viler  expedient — of  canals,  carts,  and  the  like  ? 
This  too  existed,  but  it  was  used  merely  for  necessity,  and  did  not 
attract,  or  tend  to  make  all  men  into  travelers.  To  effect  the  latter 
result,  an  invention  grander  and  cheaper  than  had  then  traversed 
space  was  required.  To  move  the  rich  needed  only  a  four-horse 
coach  running  in  an  agony  of  ten  miles  an  hour ;  but  to  move  the 
poor  required  cars  before  which  those  of  the  triumphing  Caesars  must 
pale  their  ineffectual  competition.  Thus  though  the  problem  was 
the  enfranchisement  of  the  meaner  classes  from  the  fetters  of  pedes- 
trianism,  yet  the  only  solution  of  it  lay  in  the  increased  convenience 
of  all  ranks  from  the  noble  to  the  peasant,  and  not  in  the  degrada- 
tion, but  the  elevation  of  the  locomotive  art. 

And  so  it  must  be,  as  we  apprehend,  with  human  knowledge ;  the 
arts  of  education  that  will  summon  the  people  to  learn,  are  toto  coelo 
different  from,  and  greater  than,  those  which  have  been  sufficient 
for  the  schools.  A  petty  magnet  is  sufficient  to  take  up  a  few  hun- 
dreds of  isolated  persons ;  but  when  the  nations  are  to  be  attracted, 
there  is  nothing  less  than  the  earth  that  will  draw  their  feet. 

Here  we  touch  the  gist  of  the  matter;  for  it  is  in  fact  powers  of 
attraction  in  knowledge  that  are  demanded  for  the  new  education. 
There  are  three  heads  to  this,  which  form  one.  In  the  first  place, 
attractive  knowledge  gains  the  learner  and  keeps  him.      In  the 


PREFACE.  Xlll 

second  place,  it  enlarges  his  genius,  and  out  of  that,  his  memory; 
whereas  dry  knowledge  cultivates  his  memory  at  the  expense  of  his 
mind.  In  the  third  place  (or  in  the  first  again),  such  knowledge  is 
coherent  with  itself,  and  tends  to  be  all  known  whenever  a  part  of 
it  is  known,  giving  the  learner  a  constant  sensation  that  he  is  devel- 
oping it  for  himself,  which  lets  him  into  the  legitimate  delight  of 
mental  power. 

But  only  that  is  attractive  which  is  allied  to  our  business  and 
bosoms,  and  seems  to  have  a  life  that  understands  our  life,  and  vice 
versa.  On  the  other  hand,  repulsion  is  the  effect  of  death  and  un- 
kindness.  Hence,  to  limit  ourselves  now  to  the  human  body,  no 
popular  science  of  it  can  exist,  but  one  that  fills  it  with  at  least  as 
much  life  as  its  pupils  feel  throbbing  in  their  bodies.  Knowledge 
draws  them  never  until  they  are  forced  to  cry  out:  "Ah!  I  see 
myself  more  than  myself  in  that  wonderful  glass!"  If  to  their 
curiosity  about  themselves  any  dead  body  near  them  mutters  "  germ- 
cells,"*  they  feel  dusty,  degraded,  and  abhorrent.  They  must  be 
rendered  better,  bigger,  and  worthier  for  every  look  they  give,  or 
their  eyes  will  be  averted  from  their  books. 

Knowledge,  however,  is  progressive,  or  its  cars  are  of  different 
sizes.  It  will  only  be  by  slow  degrees  that  we  can  accommodate  the 
world  with  seats  in  the  trains  of  science.  New  inventions  will  be 
requisite  for  each  new  population  that  is  to  be  drawn.  In  the 
meantime  it  is  good  to  see  this,  and  to  place  as  an  end  the  education 
.of  the  universal  people,  because  that  education  will  require  the 
largest  and  noblest  principles  of  common  sense.  To  educate  a 
Mechanic's  Institute  demands  far  greater  principles  and  more  pro- 
lific love,  than  to  do  the  like  for  a  Royal  Society :  you  have  to  bring 
things  down  and  to  incarnate  them,  to  connect  them  with  material 
and  substantial  uses,  and  to  give  them  both  souls  and  bodies,  for 
the  former ',  whereas  in  teaching  them  to  the  learned,  you  escape 
into  laws  and  formulas,  and  shirk  the  problem  of  realizing  the  sub- 

*  The  intellectual  correspondence  of  the  doctrine  of  cell-germs  and  converti- 
bility of  forces,  is  found  in  the  doctrine  of  subjectivity,  which  implies  in  the  first 
place  that  you  are  shut  into  yourself;  and  in  the  second,  that  whatever  comes 
to  you,  puts  on  your  state,  and  is  nothing  but  your  own  walls  vibrating.  This  is 
the  philosophical,  as  the  other  view  is  the  physical,  jail.  The  way  out  of  it  is 
by  walking  through  the  walls,  which  look  granite,  but  are  ;impudent  mist. 
2 


XIV  PREFACE. 

ject  to  the  audience,  by  insisting  that  it  is  the  fault  of  the  audience 
where  it  does  not  comprehend.  This  is  according  to  a  vice  common 
in  schools,  of  neglecting  the  dullards,  and  petting  the  clever  pupils. 
On  the  other  hand,  public  education  is  for  the  publicans  and  sinners 
of  the  brain — the  stupid  and  the  quick  alike,  both  of  whom  are 
constructed  for  the  largeness  of  a  common  understanding. 

But  if  to  inform  the  Mechanic's  Institutions  be  already  so  much 
vaster  a  task  than  to  propagate  learning  to  the  learned  (who  are  the 
people  that  can  take  it  easiest),  what  a  much  ampler  knowledge 
still  is  required  for  the  educations  of  clowns  and  sempstresses,  and 
those  great  classes  of  society  who  have  almost  no  organs  but  hearts 
and  hands.  Knowledge  must  be  like  music  and  nursery  songs  be- 
fore these  clodhoppers  can  dance  to  it. 

We  have  attempted,  but  most  imperfectly,  to  begin  a  discoursing 
on  the  human  body  which  goes  somewhat  in  the  direction  of  this 
great  outlying  population ;  being  convinced  that  to  win  them  to 
the  truths  of  the  creation  is  a  mission  enjoined  upon  the  future  time. 
In  doing  this,  we  have  felt  that  there  was  no  condescension  implied, 
but  the  strain  of  all  our  faculties  into  the  most  universal  sphere. 
And  although,  by  the  law  of  things,  there  is  more  to  be  done  than 
when  we  commenced  to  do,  yet  shall  we  be  satisfied  if  we  have  struck 
a  single  cord  of  that  instrument  whose  earliest  notes  portend  to  us  the 
grand  Hallelujah  choruses  and  symphonies  that  are  to  be. 

The  matter  of  universal  education  may  well  claim  the  serious 
regard  of  all  classes  of  society.  It  is  indeed  a  panacea,  though  not# 
as  it  is  at  present  conceived.  To  teach  superior  artisans  and  savans 
a  few  sciences,  and  by  all  means  to  stimulate  the  love  of  property, 
may  keep  things  together  by  giving  a  large  army  of  "  specials"  an 
interest  in  what  is  called  order  j  but  the  great  mass  is  not  touched 
by  such  motives  or  informations.  The  facts  prove  that  it  cannot 
learn  these  lessons,  or  care  for  these  objects  \  because,  like  the  old 
coaches,  they  are  not  big  enough  to  carry  it  on  its  voyage  through 
time.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  a  new  method  and  kind  of  know- 
ledge; an  Orpheus  who  can  thrill  into  dance  not  the  present 
nimble  figurantes,  who  can  dance  to  any  tune,  but  stocks,  stones, 
birds,  beasts,  and  fishes,  who  had  no  fantasy  in  them  before.  That 
method  must  take  the  best  common  sense  of  all  these  people,  and 


PREFACE.  XV 

sbow  them  that  just  that,  when  carried  to  its  highest  stages,  is  the 
very  truth  of  all  the  arts  and  sciences.  As  soon  as  this  can  be 
done,  all  stories  will  move  one  degree  higher;  the  kitchens  will  be 
parlors,  and  a  new  drawing  room  will  flower  out  of  every  house  for 
the  great  reception  days.  The  order  which  will  then  conserve  all 
things,  will  not  be  solely  that  of  the  policeman,  but  it  will  be  like 
the  order  of  creation,  or  like  that  of  the  notes  in  a  good  harmony, 
where  each  keeps  the  rest  to  their  posts. 

We  have  selected  the  human  body  to  make  a  trial  of  the  above 
method,  on  account  of  its  central  importance  and  significance,  and 
because  it  is  already  the  theatre  of  our  common  sense  :  neverthe- 
less, any  other  object  of  science  might  have  been  chosen,  and  with 
the  same  results.  For  wherever  we  go,  we  find  that  common  sense 
comes  first;  and  when  the  subject  is  completed,  again  comes  last. 
First  glances  are  always  charged  with  it,  in  a  more  or  less  latent 
form  :  the  business  of  investigation  is  simply  to  eliminate  it  as  pure 
as  possible  from  its  accidents. 

In  no  science  does  the  present  state  of  knowledge  appear  so 
manifestly  as  in  physiology:  in  none  is  the  handwriting  on  the 
wall  so  plain.  Great  is  the  feast  of  professors  here;  but  3Iene, 
Mene,  Tekel,  Uphdrsin,  is  brighter  than  their  chandeliers.  Chemistry 
and  cell-germs  are  the  walls  on  which  the  lightning  writes.  Well 
may  we  call  them  walls ;  for  it  is  impossible  to  conceive  anything 
more  liuritaneous  :  prison  stares  us  in  the  face  while  we  are  in  that 
company.  Who  of  woman  born  can  go  further  than  to  distil  him- 
self into  gas,  or  to  pound  himself  into  cells?  Annihilation,  which 
God  forbids,  must  be  the  next  stage  of  smallness.  These  respective 
doctrines  are  the  last  solid  points  which  are  possible,  and  by  nature 
itself  there  is  no  passage  beyond  them.  After  these,  the  scientific 
men  themselves  must  evanesce ;  for  already  their  watchword  to  each 
other  is,  "Hail,  Bubble  Brother!     Hail,  Nucleated  Cell !" 

Before  it  came  to  this  chaos,  there  was  everything  to  show  that 
physiology,  studied  with  the  present  objects,  had  completed  its  rule. 
Its  great  outlines  had  long  been  traced,  and  its  general  problems 
had  ceased  to  occupy  attention.  It  Lad  become  more  and  more 
complicated  and  microscopic,  and  leaving  the  human  frame,  it  was 
gradually  slipping  down  into  the  brute  creation.     Meanwhile  the 


XVI  PREFACE. 

leading  questions  that  a  child  would  ask  respecting  structure  or 
function,  were  forgotten,  or  postponed  indefinitely.  The  connection 
of  the  science  with  our  living  sympathies,  which  was  never  strong, 
had  ceased  altogether.  The  function  of  its  hierophants,  to  enlighten 
the  ignorant,  had  become  impracticable,  for  want  of  vitality  and 
attractiveness  in  their  knowledge.  These  were  signs  that  its  king- 
dom was  moved  from  the  midst  of  it,  and  was  about  to  be  given  to 
another.  Be  it  observed,  however,  that  we  do  not  blame  the  exist- 
ing sciences  for  what  they  are  not;  our  task  lies  only  in  recording 
that  they  have  had  their  three  sufficient  warnings.  Their  state  is 
like  that  of  us  all — birth,  growth,  and  decline ;  and  like  us  in  due 
time  they  are  to  be  supplanted  by  their  sons,  when  the  world's 
business  requires  further  workmen.  For  the  sciences  become  im- 
mortal in  their  generations;  solid  in  the  general  subordination  of 
the  past  to  the  present ;  and  living  in  the  perpetual  aspiration  and 
appeal  from  the  present  to  the  future. 

I  know  that  even  the  chemistry  is  all  right  in  its  own  way ;  and 
I  cannot  help  admiring  the  thoroughness  of  the  Liebigs,  who  after 
having  analyzed  the  rest  of  things,  put  men  and  women  into  the 
retorts,  and  with  pen  and  ink  ready,  write  down  so  much  dirty 
water  and  foetid  oil,  and  so  many  ounces  of  scientific  dust,  as  the 
future  state  which  comes  over.  This  is  positive  fact,  if  not  for  the 
physiologists,  at  least  for  the  candle  makers.  I  ask  nothing  more 
than  that  it  shall  be  in  its  place. 

And  who  can  quarrel  with  the  jnicroscopists  ?  When  Leeuwen- 
hoek,  in  the  seventeenth  century,  determined  that  everything  that 
was  too  little  to  be  seen,  was  his  empire,  he  really  laid  his  hands 
upon  the  whole  of  things,  in  a  certain  small  sense.  And  whenever 
our  great  duties  and  rights  are  tolerably  well  fulfilled,  little  things 
will  be  intellectually  and  morally  magnified  into  a  new  importance. 
Ultimate  structure  will  then  coincide  with  primary  structure.  But 
until  then,  the  microscope  is  before  its  time  in  physiology,  and 
must  wait  upon  lower  callings.  While  the  reasons  of  minute  forms 
are  so  totally  unseen,  it  is  their  prettiness  chiefly,  their  scenic 
charm  and  glow,  which  is  of  use  to  human  eyes.  I  have  often 
wondered  why,  in  the  difficulties  of  the  artists  who  make  patterns, 
they  have   not  resorted  to  Mr.   Queckett  and  the  Microscopical 


PREFACE.  Xvii 

Society,  for  the  exquisite  traces  which  they  can  show,  Solomon  was 
not  arrayed  like  the  lilies  of  the  field.  The  Manchester  manu- 
facturers would  do  well  to  dress  out  the  ladies  of  this  generation 
in  the  spoils  of  the  colors  and  forms  of  these  brilliant  creatures. 
There  would  be  something  new  as  well  as  charming  in  rhinoceros- 
kidney  mousseline-de-laines ;  in  shawls  according  to  the  inner 
splendors  of  the  burnished  beetle's  wing;  in  veils  worked  to  repre- 
sent the  many-eyedness  of  the  blue -bottle;  or  in  a  mantilla  on  the 
back  of  a  professor's  wife  glorious  with  mimic  cell-germs.  Here 
would  be  a  mission  for  the  microscope,  and  a  final  cause  for  the 
corporation  which  represents  it,  which  would  then  take  rank  as  a 
sub-committee  of  Drapers'  Hall.  It  would  be  good  to  be  small, 
when  it  enabled  you  to  dive  into  little  cracks  and  holes  whence  real 
beauty  could  be  fetched.  And  by  gaining  this  practical  object,  of 
ornamenting  outsides,  the  Lilliputian  people  would  cease  to  infest 
physiology,  and  leave  Gulliver's  inside  alone. 

Such,  we  believe  in  our  hearts,  would  be  the  art  corresponding  to 
the  present  state  of  this  science.  For  we  notice  that  every  little 
discovery  is  so  straitly  held  and  claimed  by  the  finder,  and  the  label 
of  "My  Truth"  is  so  decisively  pinned  to  each  fresh  zig-zag  of  cell 
work — as  though  the  man  had  not  only  seen  that  special  quirk,  but 
made  it — that  we  cannot  help  thinking  that  Show  is  the  fire  which 
is  heaving  under  this  uneasy  stratum  of  the  Small  Seers.  Our 
proposition,  which  we  hope  to  see  adopted  long  before  the  next 
"World's  Exhibition"  in  London,  exactly  jumps  with  this  passion 
for  display,  but  by  carrying  it  over  to  our  ladies  renders  it  both 
beautiful  and  harmless.  Let  "  my"  family  wear  the  blazon  of  "  my 
truth"  as  they  walk  before  me  to  church. 

There  is  one  part  of  our  work  which  we  think  it  right  to  mention, 
but  for  which  we  do  not  apologize.  Throughout  the  following  pages, 
we  have  taken  for  granted  the  Divinity  of  Christ  and  the  truth  of 
Christianity,  and  with  this  tacit  assumption  we  have  labored  to  con- 
nect the  whole  of  our  general  views.  There  is  no  escape  from  some 
step  of  this  kind :  the  atheist  takes  for  granted  his  atheism,  and 
works  in  its  darkness;  he  sees  no  God  because  he  looks  from  none, 
and  for  none :  and  in  every  sect,  that  most  comprehensive  aspect  of 

2* 


XV111  PREFACE. 

nature  which  is  its  dependence  upon  Deity,  colors  and  shapes  the 
whole  of  the  sciences  which  that  sect  elicits.  We  would  undertake 
in  many  instances  to  assign  to  particular  Christian  denominations, 
the  scientific  views  which  have  been  contributed  by  each,  and  to  pin 
their  insights  into  matter,  space,  time  and  history  to  their  prayer- 
books  and  hymn-books.  In  short,  science  is  always  impregnated 
with  either  religious,  or  irreligious  life.  By  virtue  of  this  it  is,  that 
the  coldest  treatises  end  in  some  kind  of  sermons,  and  the  nodus  of 
every  theory  of  the  world  is  a  corresponding  god. 

In  presence  of  this  necessity,  it  occurred  to  us  long  ago,  to  assume 
openly  our  own  creed  as  the  supreme  key  of  knowledge  to  which  we 
could  arrive,  and  to  peril  our  faith  so  far  as  our  readers  are  concern- 
ed upon  the  success  of  the  experiment.  And  here  we  seemed  to  be 
truly  scientific  according  to  the  common  rule.  For  after  some  facts 
are  found,  the  method  of  science  consists  in  assuming  a  hypothesis 
to  account  for  them  j  and  if  that  hypothesis  serves  the  purpose,  it 
passes  over  to  a  theory,  and  in  time  is  received  as  the  truth  of  the 
case.  And  though  the  hypothesis  might  seem  unlikely,  and  be  liable 
to  many  ugly  reasonings  against  it,  yet  if  it  answered  to  the  facts, 
it  was  justified,  and  all  ratiocinations  to  the  contrary  died.  By 
pursuing  this  method,  we  have  convinced  ourselves,  that  our  Lord  is 
written  down  in  the  pages  of  nature  herself  as  the  truth  of  her 
whole  creation. 

This  is  the  method  of  tolerance.  For  while  we  work  from  this 
point  of  view,  it  is  our  own  fault  if  we  meddle  with  others  who  are 
trying  to  settle  the  same  problem  from  different  grounds.  There 
is  a  prize  to  be  won  by  the  religions  of  the  earth :  they  are  so  many 
accounts  of  God:  the  order  and  laws  of  creation  and  spirit  are  the 
check  which  adopts  or  rejects  these  accounts  at  some  certain  point. 
The  book  is  closed,  and  who  shall  open  the  seals  and  read  it  ? 

The  same  is  the  method  of  scientific  persistence  and  unity  of  aim. 
For  no  one  lifetime  can  be  expected  to  measure  the  adjustments  of 
the  problem.  To  all  argumentation  we  can  scientifically  reply,  that 
we  have  not  yet  concluded  our  experiments.  In  so  great  a  cause, 
ages  of  ages  are  allowable  times  for  operation.  Religions  are  a  vast 
social  matter ;  no  man  has  a  right  to  declare  the  trial  done,  until 
the  success  of  creation-reading  warrants  him.     Thus  we  gain  in- 


PREFACE.  XIX 

definite  time  against  the  skeptics,  allowing  them  also  their  own  time 
for  doubting.  If  God  permits  them  leisure,  why  should  we  feel  hound 
to  hurry  them  ?    But  then  they  must  be  equally  patient  with  us. 

The  same  also  is  the  justification  of  causes  and  missions.  For 
these  are  to  action  what  theories  and  hypotheses  are  to  science. 
And  every  man  is  not  only  justified,  but  bound,  to  plead  his  reli- 
gion; and  if  it  contains  that  force,  to  send  it  forth  over  the  world. 
He  is  trying  this  scientific  problem  on  the  practical  side. 

The  same  again  is  a  criticism  upon  criticism.  For  in  a  working 
science,  we  do  not  desire  to  know  what  a  priori  probabilities  or  im- 
probabilities may  attach  to  our  hypothesis,  excepting  in  so  far  as 
they  determine  our  choice  of  it  at  first;  after  this  we  have  simply  to 
apply  it,  and  to  test  it  in  all  convenient  ways.  There  is  only  one 
objection  which  not  only  slays  but  buries  principles;  which  is,  that 
they  break  down  in  fair  practice,  and  are  disowned  by  the  nature  of 
things  :  other  objections  are  impertinences,  which  may,  or  may  not, 
be  true.  For  this  reason,  the  modern  criticisms  upon  Scripture 
have  nothing  to  do  with  the  question :  whether  miracles  are  likely 
or  unlikely,  possible  or  impossible;  whether  God  would  have  dic- 
tated a  Book  which  contradicts  itself;  whether  the  attribution 
of  human  passions  to  Deity  is  consistent;  whether  Christ  as  God 
could  have  died  upon  the  cross ;  whether  the  Gospels  were  written 
in  the  first  century  or  the  third ;  whether  Christendom  be  not  a 
wide  mistake  of  which  Chapmandom  is  the  correction : — all  these 
are  matters  which  we  postpone,  from  our  extreme  inability  to  do 
two  things  at  once.  If  it  be  found  that  Christianity  is  the  theory  of 
the  world;  that  the  Divine  Man  is  Lord  of  the  sciences;  that  the 
biblical  Revelation  is  the  truth  of  truths,  which  opens  a  Shekinah 
of  light  to  the  later  races  more  than  to  the  first ;  that  the  Gospel  alone 
can  rule  the  nations  with  a  rod  of  iron;  then  the  finding  of  this  from 
age  to  age  will  sufficiently  conserve  the  text  against  the  stings  of  the 
Straussian  school.  The  more  so,  because  if  their  principle  of  criticism 
first,  and  faith  afterwards,  were  admitted,  the  result  must  be  athe- 
istic confusion.  For  if,  on  account  of  what  contradicts  our  notions 
of  convenience  in  Scripture,  the  Bible  be  untrue,  then  for  the  same 
reason,  nature,  being  full  of  contradictory  essences,  tigers  and  lambs, 
men  and  vermin,  is  no  work  of  God ;  but  a  single  flea  is  enough  to 


XX  PEEFACB. 

trip  over  the  nature-textuary  into  the  abysses  of  denial.  The  ar- 
mor of  these  greatest  truths  is,  however,  not  so  ill-jointed  as  to  let 
in  such  lances.  It  demands  that  the  critic  shall  try  his  criticism  by 
not  only  accounting  for,  but  ruling  the  world.  If  he  cannot  do  these 
two  things,  his  rack  of  texts  proves  as  good  as  nothing. 

This  method  also  is  a  defence  against  hooks.  For  were  we  not 
entitled,  as  children  of  science,  to  take  for  granted  our  Revelation, 
and  to  make  our  lives,  and  if  need  be,  our  eternity,  into  its  trial, 
we  should  be  bound  on  a  quest  over  the  whole  universe,  to  listen 
to  what  everybody  said.  The  sandals  of  this  terrible  flight  would 
soon  reverse  us,  and  take  the  place  of  our  heads.  By  nature  how- 
ever we  make  up  our  minds  very  soon,  malyre  the  possibility  of 
meeting  some  one  who  shall  one  day  upset  us  :  there  is  a  quick  hour 
when  every  man  burns  his  Alexandrian  Library  as  heartily  as  the 
Kalif  Omar.  And  thus  we  limit  ourselves  to  a  particular  walk,  and 
like  cobblers,  u  stick  to  our  last."  The  atheists  do  this  just  as  much 
as  other  people  ;  the  vacancy  of  the  air  of  their  studies,  suffices  them 
for  the  induction  that  "God  is  nowhere."  Why  should  not  the 
Christian  professionally  accept  this  necessity  of  not  roaming  through 
all  books,  but  work  from  the  Best  to  his  vocation  ? 

We  were  forced  upon  this  track  of  thought,  by  noticing  that  the 
nationalists  had  got  to  nothing  as  punctually  as  if  nothing  had  been 
their  aim ;  and  that  their  inductions  were  of  no  consequence,  sup- 
posing them  to  be  true ;  which  however  concluded  against  their 
truth.  We  found  also  that  they  were  like  the  fellow  who  claimed 
Virgil's  "  Sic  vos  non  vobis"  to  himself,  but  could  not  complete  the 
line  which  the  great  poet  had  left  half  finished.  In  the  whole 
company  of  them,  and  in  all  their  promise  of  offspring,  there  was 
not  a  spark  of  revelation  ;  though  to  hear  them  talk  one  might  have 
imagined,  that  they  knew  the  way  of  making  myths,  and  that 
writing  Bibles  was  their  forte.  For  these  and  a  thousand  other  rea- 
sons, we  left  them  on  one  side,  and  took  another  tack. 

Here  also  we  quitted  those  two  little  parties  who  think  that  they 
are  the  only  two,  namely,  the  contenders  for  the  principle  of  au- 
thority on  the  one  side,  and  for  that  of  reasoning  on  the  other ;  and 
taking  some  gold  and  silver  from  both,  we  determined  to  choose  the 
party  of  science,  as  that  to  which  the  Lord  of  science  was  about  to 


PREFACE.  XXI 

commit  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth.  And  as  eyes  are  the  great  facul- 
ties of  sciences,  we  determined  thenceforth  to  pray  for  eyes  above 
all  other  powers  of  that  kind  ;  that  we  might  not  have  to  appeal 
to  either  of  those  effete  parties,  authority,  or  criticism,  but  might 
terminate  some  of  our  perplexities  by  sight.  The  more  we  have 
proceeded,  the  more  convinced  we  are,  that  this  ground  of  science 
is  the  coming  earth  of  a  new  and  more  glorious  time,  and  that  He 
whose  feet  burned  like  fine  brass  in  a  furnace,  will  pour  His  love 
through  it,  and  give  to  it  to  conquer  and  to  heal. 

At  the  same  time  we  have  no  faith  in  the  present  state  of  the 
sciences,  excepting  as  the  ministers  of  some  industrial  arts.  For 
educational  purposes  they  are  almost  worthless,  because  they  termi- 
nate the  first  plain  questions  with  unsatisfactory  replies.  For  spi- 
ritual purposes  they  are  equally  negative.  And  hence  we  regard 
them,  with  all  their  seemingly  large  retinue  of  facts  and  colleges,  as 
only  provisional  occupants  of  the  mind.  Indeed  they  are  in  so 
rapid  a  flux,  that  it  is  hard  to  say  what  they  are  from  one  year  to 
another. 

But  when  science  becomes  Christian,  we  may  have  some  natural 
theology  upon  the  face  of  the  earth.  And  here  again  our  views 
depart  from  those  of  many  good  men.  If  Christ  be  the  God  of 
the  Christian,  then  natural  Christology  is  the  only  theology  of  this 
kind  which  is  possible  in  a  Christian  state.  In  Mohammedan  coun- 
tries, natural  theology,  or  the  culmination  of  the  science  of  nature 
in  Deism,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  Theism,  must  be  permitted  as 
an  inevitable  growth  j  but  this  is  plainly  not  the  case  where  Christ 
is  worshiped.  We  feel  it  necessary  to  insist  upon  this,  because 
even  those  who  accept  Christ's  Godhead,  strangely  pass  Him  by 
when  they  are  attempting  to  trace  up  all  nature  to  their  God.  The 
consequence  is,  that  it  is  only  the  tfuths  of  mere  development  and 
creation  that  occur  in  the  sciences,  and  not  those  of  love  and  re- 
demption; whence  moral  and  spiritual  life  is  banished  from  the  book 
of  nature.  The  church  must  look  to  this  J  and  bishops  and  clergy 
whose  place  it  is  to  give  prizes  for  natural  theology,  must  consider 
whether  as  at  present  taught,  it  is  not  an  active  branch  of  Deism. 
We  venture  to  express  a  hope,  that  in  the  distribution  of  laurels  to 
the  successful  candidates  for  the  great  Glasgow  prize,  this  Christian 


XX11  PREFACE. 

exigency  will  be  remembered ;  and  the  award  be  made  not  to  those 
treatises  that  so  easily  trace  the  parallelism  between  certain  views  of 
science  and  the  God  of  fancy,  but  between  the  integral  sciences 
themselves  and  the  God  of  Revelation. 

If  the  judges  upon  the  important  occasion  referred  to,  adopt  the 
standard  which  we  suggest,  the  end  of  natural  theology  will  be  al- 
tered, and  the  effects  upon  science  may  be  of  the  most  considerable 
kind.  At  present,  natural  theology  has  undertaken  the  impossible 
task  of  "finding  out  God,"  Who  can  only  be  found  in  so  far  as  He 
has  been  pleased  to  reveal  Himself.  The  Deity  thus  elicited,  or  as 
Fichte  rightly  says,  "  constructed,"  is  a  scientific  abstraction  an- 
swering to  the  concrete  figure  of  the  Vulcan  of  the  Greeks — that  is 
to  say,  a  universal  Smith.  The  course  of  the  natural  theologians  is 
as  follows :  they  see  in  the  human  body  and  the  world  the  principles 
and  applications  of  the  arts  in  a  surpassing  degree :  the  skull  dis- 
plays the  virtues  of  the  arch,  and  the  hand  embodies  wondrous 
pulleys  and  levers;  whence  they  infer  that  God  is  acquainted  with 
mechanics.  And  from  all  the  other  parts  of  man,  the  clay  patron- 
izes the  Potter  in  the  same  way,  and  the  Deity  which  arises  out  of 
the  whole  is  at  best  an  infinite  handicraftsman.  This  is  anthro- 
pomorphism, or  the  distillation  of  God  out  of  our  own  limits  and 
thoughts,  our  own  space  and  time.  The  Paleys,  Broughams,  and 
the  authors  of  the  Bridgewater  Treatises,  seem  to  have  been  satisfied 
with  this  vulgarity  of  heathenism. 

We  hold,  on  the  other  hand,  that  a  scientific  natural  theology  is 
different,  and  that  it  accepts  the  living  Lord  of  Revelation,  and 
consists  in  tracing  the  correspondency  of  His  revealed  attributes  in 
the  sciences;  being  in  effect  the  synthesis  of  the  knowledge  of  the 
real  God  with  the  sciences  of  real  nature.  In  this  case  it  leads  the 
waters  of  life  into  science,  ancPis  the  most  indispensable  of  all  the 
single  studies  of  the  natural  world.  As  for  the  evidences  which  it 
affords  of  God's  existence,  these  do  not  consist  in  demonstrations 
of  artistry  and  carpentry,  but  in  symbols  of  spirit  and  love  pervad- 
ing creation,  and  reconstructing  the  natural  mind  of  man  upon 
spiritual  models.  The  proof  that  nature  is  full  of  Deity,  lies  in 
its  power,  when  rightly  seen,  to  soften  the  heart  and  moisten  the 
eyes  of  the  unbelieving  world,  and  without  a  controversy  to  send 


PREFACE.  XXlll 

the  scoffer  to  his  knees.  In  that  affecting  moment,  genius  and 
devotion  are  twin-born.  But  no  demonstration  of  Vulcan,  even 
though  approved  by  bishops  and  clergy,  has  any  effect  of  this  kind. 

Many  of  the  thoughts  in  the  present  work  may  seem  new  :  yet 
the  larger  portion  of  them  is  not  our  own.  We  believe  implicitly 
that  "  the  stone  which  the  builders  rejected"  will  be  "  the  head  of 
the  corner."  It  has  become  therefore  a  scientific  canon  with  us,  to 
look  out  for  this  stone  in  all  quarters.  Hence  we  have  been  led  to 
many  discredited  sources  of  information;  and  if  borrowing  good 
things  be  plagiarism,  we  are  guilty  of  it  to  the  utmost  of  our 
powers.  Wherever  it  can  be  shown  that  we  are  not  original,  so 
much  the  better  :  we  desire  for  ourselves  and  others  to  enter  the 
circle  of  the  great  dependence  of  things,  secure  that  there  is  no  in- 
dependence of  heart  or  mind  upon  any  other  terms. 

And  now  our  task  is  done.  The  style  of  it  differs  somewhat  from 
the  common,  because  our  creed  differs ;  and  we  disbelieve  for  the 
most  part  in  what  is  called  the  severity,  strictness  and  dryness  of 
science.  We  hold  that  nature  is  the  drapery  of  spirit,  and  that 
analogy  is  the  cement  of  things,  and  the  high-road  of  influences. 
We  are  therefore  afraid  of  nothing,  however  fanciful,  on  this  ground  : 
nature  is  more  fanciful  than  any  of  her  children.  Besides  which, 
we  have  found  practically  that  metaphor  is  a  sword  of  the  spirit,  and 
that  whenever  a  great  truth  is  fixed,  it  is  by  some  happy  metaphor 
that  it  is  willing  to  inhabit  for  a  time  :  and  again,  that  whenever  a 
long  controversy  is  ended,  it  is  by  one  of  the  parties  getting  hand  on 
a  metaphor  whose  blade  burns  with  the  runes  of  truth.  For  these 
reasons  we  dare  speak  in  parables. 

Yet  is  it  fearful  to  disagree  so  widely  with  our  friends  and  fellows. 
We  love  them,  but  crave  space  to  breathe  where  they  are  not. 
Difference  makes  the  world  larger ;  and  without  a  quarrel  with  the 
old  modes,  we  have  emigrated  to  another  country,  where  we  hope  for 
peace ;  particularly  as  we  trust  not  again  to  come  forth  with  the 
pen. 


THE   HUMAN   BODY 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 


Our  first  conception  of  the  human  body  is  that  of  a  living  sub- 
ject; life  is  the  dim  personality  which  animates  it,  as  well  as  the 
atmosphere  in  which  it  moves  and  breathes.  Upon  this  lowest 
floor  of  our  existence  there  rises  an  edifice  of  many  stories ;  upon 
simple  life,  which  is  the  vegetable  in  the  animal,  there  is  founded 
a  life  of  life,  which  is  mind.  The  mind  is  many-chambered  and 
many-storied.  Life  dwells  in  the  body,  but  the  mind,  or  superior 
life,  inhabits  the  head,  or  according  to  anatomy,  the  brain.  The 
brain,  then,  is  presumably  the  body  of  the  mind,  and  whatever  is 
wisdom  or  faculty  in  the  mind,  is  furniture  or  machinery  answering 
to  faculty,  in  the  brain.  And  as  the  mind  is  the  man,  the  brain  is 
his  representative,  or  the  man  in  another  degree. 

This  is  the  solid  voice  of  the  head,  or  the  most  general  truth  of 
consciousness,  which  lies  in  the  head,  and  speaks  from  the  head. 
And  our  plan  is,  to  accept  as  oracles,  these  gifts  of  our  instinctive 
sense :  to  regard  them  as  the  elements  of  knowledge :  and  not  to 
question  until  we  have  accepted  them.  It  is  then  the  conscious- 
ness, or  instinctive  natural  history  of  the  organs,  from  which  we 
commence :  not  what  man  says  of  the  brain,  but  what  the  brain 
says  of  itself  in  man.  Thus  we  shall  first  endeavor  to  gain  the 
impressions  which  the  organ  under  discussion  makes  upon  the  mind, 
or  begin  from  natural  experience.  We  shall  then  briefly  consider 
its  anatomy,  or  pass  to  scientific  experience.  Next  we  shall  attempt 
to  give  life  to  the  part  by  considering  it  in  motion  and  emotion, 
3 


26  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

Lastly,  we  shall  pursue  the  analogical  method,  where  it  is  riot  too 
difficult;  and  assuming  that  every  principle  runs  quite  through  the 
world,  we  shall  endeavor  to  show  that  each  organ  has  kindred  in 
every  sphere;  and  thus,  out  of  the  consanguinity  of  things,  we 
shall  try  to  deduce  the  fact  of  a  native  coherence  in  the  world,  whose 
links  are  a  real  logic,  and  which,  when  transplanted  into  know- 
ledge, will  spontaneously  constitute  the  association  and  unity  of  the 
sciences. 

But  this  will  be  better  understood  in  the  sequel.  We  now  pro- 
ceed to  the  facts  of  the  present  case,  to  visit  the  mind  which  we 
have  found,  in  its  proper  mansion,  the  brain. 

At  the  outset,  we  would  guard  the  general  reader  against  an  error 
which  requires  to  be  removed.  It  is  commonly  supposed,  because 
anatomy  has  been  cultivated  by  a  class,  that  it  is  difficult  to  learn. 
On  the  contrary,  any  one  with  a  common  understanding,  and  of 
course  industry  and  attention,  may  possess  himself  of  the  leading 
parts  of  anatomy.  Ladies  may  learn  them  as  well  and  as  harm- 
lessly as  the  other  sex.  Plates  moreover  are  satisfactory  means  of 
acquiring  a  view  of  the  human  frame  which  is  enough  for  public 
education;  for  although  insufficient  for  the  surgeon,  the  knowledge 
derived  from  plates  will  enable  the  public  to  enter  upon  the  study 
of  organization,  both  with  cleaner  hands  and  clearer  heads  than  if 
they  busied  themselves  with  the  ever-varying  detail  of  dissections. 
It  has  indeed  been  usual  with  practical  anatomists  to  decry  ana- 
tomical plates ;  and  yet  they  are  a  degree  better  and  truer  than  the 
dead  body ;  for  they  contain  the  mind  of  the  artist,  and  are  superior 
to  any  single  subject,  being  not  mere  copies,  but  carefully  collected 
from  many  subjects;  and  as  they  are  generalizations,  they  are 
adapted  to  be  vehicles  of  general  knowledge.*  They  may  be  re- 
garded as  translations  of  the  body,  available  for  those  who  cannot 
read  the  original.  And  indeed  those  who  can  only  see  and  not 
touch  anatomy,  as  they  have  all  power  of  destruction  removed,  are 
favorably  situated  for  constructive  truths — for  the  theories  of  bodily 

*  Many  of  the  current  anatomical  plates  have  descended  through  books  for 
centuries,  improving  on  the  way,  and  may  be  traced  from  the  masters  of  the 
Italian  and  Dutch  schools  of  anatomy  to  the  present  manuals :  a  plain  sign  of 
their  truth  and  serviceableness. 


DESCRIPTION.  27 

motion,  proportion  and  gravitation;  just  as  the  astronomers  are 
indebted  to  the  distance  of  their  view,  and  the  superficiality  of  their 
objects.  Good  science  then,  we  repeat,  will  not  refuse  to  attend 
upon  anatomical  plates,  though  not  the  science  of  the  surgeon. 

The  brain  is  an  oval  mass,  filling  and  fitting  the  interior  of  the 
skull,  and  consisting  of  two  substances,  a  gray,  ash-colored  or  cine- 
ritious  portion,  and  a  white,  fibrous  or  medullary  portion.  These 
substances  occupy  different  positions  in  different  parts  of  the  brain. 
The  gray  portion  constitutes  the  circumference  of  the  large  and 
front  division  which  is  called  the  cerebrum ;  it  also  enters  into  the 
interior  of  the  same  in  various  parts,  and  forms  both  the  centre  and 
circumference  of  the  cerebellum  and  the  centre  of  the  spinal  mar- 
row. The  white  portion  makes  up  the  greater  share  of  the  brain. 
Besides  these  divisions  of  substance  the  brain  also  presents  divisions 
of  form.  It  is  parted  into  two  great  masses,  viz.,  the  cerebrum  and 
cerebellum,  and  at  its  base  there  are  two  other  portions,  named  the 
annular  protuberance  and  medulla  oblongata.  These  are  the  four 
primary  divisions  on  the  surface  of  the  organ.  The  spinal  marrow, 
which  runs  down  through  the  vertebrae  or  back  bones,  is  the  con- 
tinuation of  the  medulla  oblongata.  The  above  parts  collectively 
are  the  bed  and  trunk  of  what  is  called  the  nervous  system.  From 
all  those  already  mentioned  there  arise  certain  white  cords,  the 
nerves,  which  come  out  through  holes  in  the  skull,  and  through 
notches  between  the  back  bones,  and  run  to  all  parts  of  the  body, 
gradually  splitting  into  filaments,  which  at  length  become  invisible 
by  reason  of  their  fineness.  There  are  generally  reckoned  to  be 
eleven  pairs  of  nerves  arising  from  the  brain,  and  thirty-one  pairs 
from  the  spinal  marrow.  Besides  this  great  nervous  plant  which 
continues  the  life  of  the  head  and  its  appendages,  there  is  also 
another  proper  to  the  body,  as  it  were  a  creeping  or  parasitical 
system,  which  weaves  its  meshes  among  the  branches  of  the  former  : 
this  is  the  system  of  the  sympathetic  nerves.  It  is  not  obviously 
referable  to  a  centre,  like  the  system  just  described,  but  it'  has 
many  small  centres  scattered  throughout  the  body,  but  especially 
near  the  important  organs,  the  heart,  the  stomach,  &c.  These  cen- 
tres are  called  ganglions,  and  are  said  to  consist  principally  of  gray 
matter.     Innumerable  fine  nerves  radiate  from  them  to  the  viscera, 


28  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

and  to  the  great  blood-vessels ;  and  also  fibres  pass  to  communicate 
with  the  capital  nervous  system. 

From  the  general  tenor  of  these  two  systems  it  appears  that  the 
cerebral  is  the  engine  and  representative  of  the  mind,  and  of  the 
body  as  constituted  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  mind,  while  the  sym- 
pathetic system  is  the  nervous  engine  and  representative  of  the  body 
considered  independently,  as  possessing  a  life  or  mind  in  itself  so 
far  as  this  system  can  arouse  it.  Consciousness  does  not  here  come 
in  question.  Many  of  our  impressions  are  unconscious,  nay  perhaps 
all  through  the  longer  part  of  their  course,  though  travelling  along 
the  cerebral  lines.  And  again,  the  bodily  organs,  as  the  liver  or 
the  kidneys,  require  to  exercise  processes  of  selection,  and  acts  of 
composition  and  elimination,  to  which  nothing  less  than  a  stupen- 
dous bodily  judgment  is  adequate.  Mental  judgment  would  not  be 
fine  enough  for  the  work;  and  it  is  only  mental  judgment  and 
faculty  which  are  conscious. 

The  brain  and  its  parts,  including  the  spinal  marrow,  are  clothed 
with  three  membranes  or  skins.  That  next  the  brain  is  the  pia 
mater,  which  not  only  encloses  the  brain,  but  dips  down  into  its 
folds,  and  probably  ramifies  more  and  more  finely  through  its  minute 
divisions,  acting  as  a  framework  to  the  nervous  substance  :  it  is  full 
of  delicate  vessels  which  supply  the  brain  with  blood.  The  next 
membrane  is  the  arachnoid,  which  is  said  to  form  a  shut  bag  like  a 
double  nightcap,  in  the  inside  of  which  a  lubricating  fluid  is  given 
out,  the  whole  constituting  a  kind  of  "  water  bed"*  on  which  the 
brain  may  undulate.  The  next  membrane  is  the  dura  mater,  lining 
the  movable  arachnoid  on  the  side  towards  the  brain,  and  lining  the 
bony  skull  on  the  other  side,  and  being  separable  into  two  layers  to 
suit  these  two  situations  or  offices.  It  is  the  strongest  of  the  mem- 
branes of  the  brain,  and  gives  off  membranous  pipes  which  receive 
and  envelop  the  nerves  at  their  exit  from  the  skull  and  spine  :  it  also 
sends  down  tight  sheets  or  processes  between  the  two  halves  of  the 
cerebrum,  and  between  the  cerebrum  and  cerebellum,  whereby  it 

*  Water  beds  of  this  kind,  i.  c,  serous  membranes,  are  prepared  for  all  the 
viscera;  and  bursse  or  water  cushions  are  frequently  apposed  in  the  joints; 
where  these  are  met  with  they  are  the  means  and  evidences  of  some  motion 
performed. 


DESCRIPTION.  29 

supports  the  larger  divisions  of  this  soft  and  tender  organism :  and 
between  its  layers  it  contains  the  great  channels  of  venous  blood 
known  as  the  sinuses  of  the  brain. 

We  see  then  that  the  consciousness  is  physically  nourished  from 
without,  as  the  brain  is  nourished  by  the  blood  of  the  pia  mater;  that 
it  is  physically  movable,  or  can  assume  varieties  of  shape  and  state, 
as  the  floating  brain  can  move  its  person  upon  its  fluids,  and  speci- 
fically upon  the  arachnoid  bed :  we  also  observe  that  the  conscious- 
ness, like  the  brain,  is  limited,  the  dura  mater  and  the  skull  being 
the  emblems  of  that  limitation. 

The  brain  is  supplied  with  blood  by  the  carotid  and  vertebral  arte- 
ries. The  carotids  are  the  first  great  vessels  which  issue  from  the 
stem  of  the  arterial  tree,  and  they  supply  the  cerebrum  with  the  first 
blood  of  the  heart.  The  vertebrals  are  the  first  streams  from  the 
subclavians,  which  supply  the  arms  with  blood.  Thus  the  first  blood 
of  the  body  and  the  limbs  is  alienated  to  the  brain.  Its  veins,  which 
bring  back  towards  the  heart  the  blood  that  has  passed  through  the 
before-mentioned  arteries  to  the  pia  mater  and  substance  of  the  brain, 
empty  themselves  into  certain  peculiar  channels  contained  in  the  lay- 
ers of  the  dura  mater,  and  termed  the  sinuses  of  the  brain ;  which 
sinuses  communicate  with  each  other  at  last,  and  pass  out  of  the  skull 
by  a  bend  or  curve  where  the  carotid  enters;  there  constituting  the 
internal  jugular  vein,  which  carries  the  first  considerable  stream  that 
is  returned  to  the  heart. 

The  cerebral  globe  is  divided  into  two  halves,  and  each  of  these 
into  lobes;  the  lobes  again  being  subdivided  into  convolutions,  which 
have  furrows  between  them  that  dip  down  into  the  brain,  and  are 
covered  by  the  pia  mater.  By  means  of  these  foldings,  the  surface 
of  the  cerebrum  is  much  increased,  and  space  is  economized ;  this 
folding  of  surfaces  into  solids  being  one  of  the  principles  of  the  body, 
whereby  distances  are  brought  together,  and  association  or  organiza- 
tion is  promoted.  In  proportion  to  the  number  of  these  twists  or 
convolutions  is  the  power  of  the  brain.  The  mind's  revolvings  are 
here  represented  in  moving  spirals,  and  the  subtle  insinuation  of 
thought,  whose  path  lies  through  all  things,  issues  with  power  from 
the  form  of  the  cerebral  screws.     They  print  their  shape  and  make 


30  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

themselves  room  on  the  hard  inside  of  the  skull,  and  are  the  most 
irresistible  agents  in  the  human  world. 

At  a  considerable  depth  the  two  hemispheres  unite  together,  and 
below  their  union,  if  the  cerebrum  be  opened,  we  come  to  certain 
cavities  termed  the  ventricles  of  the  brain.  Of  these  there  are  four, 
all  communicating  with  each  other ;  and  a  fifth  is  enumerated,  but 
of  small  size,  and  disconnected  from  the  rest.  The  four  cavities  form 
a  continuous  chamber,  and  always  contain  more  or  less  fluid.  Thus 
the  brain,  far  from  being  prepared  for  rest,  is  constituted  internally 
upon  the  movable  pivot  of  this  fluid  cushion  of  the  ventricles. 

The  cerebellum  lies  behind  and  underneath  the  cerebrum,  of  which 
it  is  said  to  be  one-eighth  the  size,  and  it  is  divided  into  lobes  and 
lobules.  It  consists  of  gray  and  white  substance,  not  disposed  in 
convolutions  but  in  thin  plates.  There  is  said  to  be  no  direct  com- 
munication between  the  cerebral  hemispheres  and  the  cerebellum. 
The  latter  is  evidently  not  a  revolving,  thinking,  or  spiral  organ,  but 
a  battery  of  determination  and  power :  thoughtful  consciousness  does 
not  connect  itself  with  the  back  of  the  head,  or  with  the  cerebellum. 
Its  form  too,  double  fisted,  does  not  answer  to  the  cerebral  functions. 
Its  visceral  or  hidden  situation  also  brings  it  into  analogy  with  the 
other  viscera,  in  which  there  is  no  freedom  of  thought,  but  fixed  ac- 
ceptation and  permanent  action. 

The  nervous  system,  though  apparently  homogeneous,  is  con- 
structed of  distinct  pieces,  which  are  extraordinarily  united,  and  ex- 
traordinarily capable  of  separation  in  their  functions.  The  first  piece 
is  the  proper  spinal  marrow,  with  all  the  nerves  of  the  limbs,  trunk 
and  head  which  issue  from  it.  This  lowest  pillar  of  the  cerebral 
system  is  in  a  manner  complete  in  itself,  and  receives  impressions, 
and  executes  actions,  on  its  own  account.  It  consists  of  a  running 
axis  of  gray  matter  of  a  peculiar  form,  and  in  front  gives  off  the  nerves 
that  convey  bodily  motions,  at  the  back  receives  those  which  carry 
bodily  sensations.  The  circle  of  its  operations  is  therefore  as  follows. 
When  an  impression  appeals  to  it  from  the  body  through  its  quasi- 
sentient  nerves,  this  mounts  to  the  gray  centre  to  which  the  nerve 
carrying  the  impression  belongs :  an  instant  organic  determination 
then  occurs  in  the  centre,  a  decision  takes  place,  and  a  motion  is 
sent  down  through  the  corresponding  motor  nerve  to  the  parts  which 


THE  SPINAL  BRAIN.  31 

the  latter  supplies.  For  example,  a  pinch  applied  to  the  leg  lodges 
its  complaint  at  the  gray  centre,  which  at  once  by  its  nerves  sets  the 
muscles  and  the  limb  in  that  motion  which  enables  the  part  to  escape 
the  distress.  This  is  now  termed,  reflex  action,  which  means  that 
an  impression  is  communicated  to  a  nervous  centre  by  a  set  of  quasi- 
sentient  nerves,  and  a  motion  reflected  from  that  centre  by  a  set 
of  motor  nerves.  It  does  not  necessarily  involve  consciousness.  A 
paralytic  man,  with  no  feeling  in  his  legs,  if  the  soles  of  his  feet  be 
tickled  will  move  them  away  from  the  irritation,  just  as  though  he 
perceived  it.  In  short,  the  spinal  brain  is  unconscious,  or  let  us 
rather  say,  we  are  unconscious  of  its  feelings.  We  term  its  nerves 
therefore,  not  sentient,  but  quasi-sentient. 

We  come  now  to  a  second  and  distinct  piece  of  nervous  system,  of 
whose  operations  we  may  still  be  unconscious,  viz.,  the  medulla  ob- 
longata, whose  nerves  are  connected  with  the  organs  of  respiration 
and  the  ingestion  of  food — with  the  functions  of  breathing  and  of 
eating,  which  although  they  may  be  permeated  by  sensation,  and 
controlled  by  the  will,  may  also  occur  independently  of  either;  as 
during  sleep,  when  breathing  still  proceeds,  and  in  various  cases 
when  the  movements  of  eating  and  deglutition  are  performed  without 
cognizance.  All  that  is  necessary  for  continuing  the  actions  of  the 
parts  of  the  body  supplied  from  these  centres,  is,  that  a  quasi-sensa- 
tion  be  communicated  to  them,  which  the  centres  act  upon  through 
the  motor  apparatus  of  nerves.  The  conception  of  so  mere  a  ma- 
chine in  man,  is  perhaps  difficult  to  realize ;  the  spinal  brain,  how- 
ever, with  its  dependencies,  represents  an  automaton  man  as  the 
basement  of  the  nervous  system.  It  is  the  organization  of  routine 
or  insect  progress.  By  it  we  walk,  work  and  eat  when  we  are  not 
thinking  of  those  operations;  and  thus  the  inherent  properties  of  this 
routine  system  save  us  from  much  expenditure  of  attention,  and  allow 
the  brain  and  the  senses  to  be  emancipated  as  necessity  requires  from 
the  lowest  wants.  Had  we  to  perform  our  animal  functions  by  direct 
volitions,  we  should  have  no  time  for  anything  better :  if  each  breath 
were  a  distinct  voluntary  act,  breathing  alone  would  fill  our  lives : 
nor  in  this  case  would  walking  or  an}7  other  external  function  be 
possible,  for  the  will  does  but  one  thing  at  once.  As  it  is,  however, 
a  number  of  bodily  acts  are  momentaneously  and  harmonically  per- 


32  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

formed,  each  through  the  separate  vigilance  of  its  own  agent  in  the 
recesses  of  the  spinal  brains. 

We  have  alluded  already  to  the  act  of  walking,  which  affords  a 
good  example  of  automatic  function.  When  we  are  walking  with- 
out attending  to  our  steps,  the  foot  coming  down  to  the  ground  con- 
veys the  quasi-sensation  of  its  contact  to  the  spinal  centres;  these 
are  roused  to  a  corresponding  motion ;  in  other  words,  they  command 
the  muscles  of  the  other  leg  to  put  it  into  a  forward  movement.  No 
sooner  is  this  executed,  than  at  the  end  of  the  movement,  another 
manifest  quasi-sensation  is  afforded  by  the  fresh  contact  with  the 
earth,  which  contact  reaching  the  centres,  engenders  a  second 
motion :  and  so  forth,  throughout  the  walk.  This  is  a  simple  circle, 
in  which  quasi-sensation  excites  motion  at  the  centre,  and  motion 
produces  quasi-sensation  at  its  extremes.  Thus  the  foot  on  the 
ground  represents  sensation,  and  that  in  progress,  motion,  and  the 
two  contemplated  together  represent  the  links  in  a  chain  of  nervous 
fate. 

The  next  piece  of  the  nervous  system  consists  of  the  nerves  of 
the  special  senses,  and  of  certain  central  parts  at  the  base  of  the 
brain,  to  which  those  nerves  run.  The  latter  are  the  sensual*  brain, 
from  which  fibres  emanate  that  ultimately  become  the  olfactory, 
optic,  auditory  nerves,  &c,  which  run  respectively  to  the  nose,  the 
eye,  the  ear,  the  mouth  and  the  skin.  The  central  endowment  of 
this  nervous  piece  is  sensation.  In  itself  it  provides  a  simple  circle 
from  sensations  to  motions.  Impressions  which  are  perceived  by  the 
senses  mount  to  the  sensual  centres,  which  dictate  suitable  actions. 
The  instincts  of  some  animals  low  down  in  the  scale,  are  to  be  re- 
ferred to  this  class  of  mobilized  sensations. 

Instances  of  purely  sensual  actions  are  comparatively  rare  in  man, 
so  rapid  is  the  transit  of  feeling  into  desire,  which  is  not  a  faculty 
of  mere  sense,  but  the  gift  of  a  mind  in  direct  communication  with 

*  We  prefer  the  term  sensual  to  sensory,  which  seems  coming  into  use.  The 
word  sensory,  if  applied  so  low  down,  would  exclude  from  sensation  all  above 
it,  and  the  cerebral  operations  would  fall  into  abstract  forms :  whereas  by  allo- 
cating the  term  sensual  to  the  nervous  centres  of  the  external  senses,  we  leave 
the  term  sensory  for  the  inner  senses,  to  which  it  has  been  appropriated  from  old 
times. 


THE  SENSUAL  BRAIN.  33 

the  senses.  The  instinctive  laying  out  of  the  body  for  pleasures, 
and  its  spontaneous  avoidance  of  pains,  are  however  cases  of  this 
order.  Moreover  we  feel  that  a  strong  vein  of  these  actions  runs 
through  many  of  our  habits,  and  executes  them  for  us,  contempo- 
raneously with  our  desires.  Habitual  vices,  in  proportion  as  they 
become  fixed,  seem  to  roll  upon  this  fatal  wheel,  by  which  low  plea- 
sure runs  incontinently  into  motion.  The  bottle  is  hung  round 
the  neck  of  the  drunkard  by  a  simple  sensual  circle  of  the  kind,  as 
well  as  by  a  longer  thong  of  which  perverse  desire  is  the  neck- 
piece. By  a  similar  yoke,  of  seeing  and  leering,  is  the  voluptuary 
led  by  his  objects.  In  short,  whatever  we  do,  good  or  bad,  without 
being  able  to  control  it,  appears  to  contain  a  sensual  kernel.  Sen- 
suality, however,  is  a  passive  faculty,  and  we  shall  have  to  distinguish 
presently  an  active  part  belonging  to  it,  and  playing  upon  it,  and 
which  for  the  present  we  term  animality.  This  then  is  the  third  of 
the  nervous  stones  which  construct  us — sensation,  which  set  a-moving 
is  sensuality.  It  leads  us  to  dance  pleasantly  but  involuntarily  to 
the  music  of  the  senses.     Its  seat  is  in  the  base  of  the  brain. 

The  fourth  and  remaining  piece  of  the  nervous  system  comprises 
the  cerebral  hemispheres,  which  reasoning  by  the  method  of  exclu- 
sion we  regard  as  the  seat  of  the  mind,  or  the  properly  human  facul- 
ties; and  not  only  of  these,  but  of  all  those  powers  which  belong  to 
consciousness,  and  are  over  and  above  the  senses.  These  hemi- 
spheres are  predominant  in  place  and  size  in  man,  as  well  as  in  the 
higher  animals. 

We  have  now  chronicled  three  divisions  of  the  nervous  system,* 

*  The  nervous  system,  or  its  functions,  are  sometimes  dissected  for  us  by 
diseases,  as  well  as  by  narcotic  agents,  which  benumb  one  part  and  leave  the 
others  free.  For  instance,  during  the  administration  of  chloroform,  first  thought 
and  will,  and  the  fixity  of  sense  which  depends  upon  attention,  become  confused 
and  waver :  and  shortly  afterwards  active  consciousness  is  abolished.  The 
cerebrum  is  detached  from  the  train,  and  life  goes  on  at  slackened  pace  without 
its  traction.  The  sense  of  pain  however  still  continues.  By  degrees  this  too  is 
lost :  the  second  and  feebler  engine  of  sensation,  the  sensual  brain,  is  also  de- 
tached, and  nothing  but  breathing  is  prefixed  to  the  cars.  This  now  becomes 
slower  and  more  slow,  and  if  the  experiment  be  continued,  ceases.  Life  is  then 
generally  irrecallable.  In  natural  and  artificial  trance  the  process  of  disconnec- 
tion may  proceed  two  steps  further ;  and  the  nervous  function  may  be  detached 


34  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

which  may  be  grouped  into  two,  an  animal  and  an  automatic;  the 
lowest  of  these  is  a  nerve  machine,  the  higher  in  its  twofold  aspect 
is  a  nerve  animal,  with  senses.  We  know  nothing  that  expresses  so 
physiologically  the  case  between  the  automatic  and  the  other  part  of 
this  system  as  the  ratio  of  the  living  creatures  to  the  wheels  in 
Ezekiel.  "And  when  the  living  creatures  went,  the  wheels  went 
by  them;  and  when  the  living  creatures  were  lifted  up  from  the 
earth,  the  wheels  were  lifted  up.  Whithersoever  the  spirit  was  to 
go,  they  went,  thither  was  their  spirit  to  go ;  and  the  wheels  were 
lifted  up  over  against  them :  for  the  spirit  of  the  living  creature  was 
in  the  wheels.  When  those  went,  these  went;  and  when  those 
stood,  these  stood;  and  when  those  were  lifted  up  from  the  earth, 
the  wheels  were  lifted  up  over  against  them :  for  the  spirit  of  the 
living  creature  was  in  the  wheels/'* 

On  arriving  in  our  upward  course  at  the  cerebral  hemispheres, 
we  have  come  to  a  group  of  functions  which  represent  the  powers  of 
the  mind :  consequently  here  we  have  no  longer  a  simple  centre  to 
consider,  but  an  organ  with  various  essences.  For  the  mind  is  evi- 
dently twofold ;  at  the  first  analysis  it  is  a  rational  spring  on  the 
one  hand,  and  an  animal  spring  on  the  other.  It  may  be  devoted 
to  the  truth  of  things,  and  proceed  from  thought  to  judgment,  and 
from  judgment  to  will,  and  so  give  the  dictates  of  reasonable  actions. 
Or  it  may  be  spent  upon  gratifications,  and  run  from  imagination 

to  a  certain  distance  from  the  organism,  and  yet  be  capable  of  reassuming  its 
place. 

In  the  case  of  narcotism  the  separation  takes  place  from  above  downwards  : 
the  mind  is  first  taken  away,  then  the  senses,  and  lastly  the  breath  :  but  some- 
times the  reverse  process  occurs,  as  at  the  hour  of  death,  and  first  impressibility, 
and  second  sensibility  are  lost ;  whilst  the  mind  retains  its  clearness,  or  even 
enjoys  additional  powers  of  circumvision  and  forethought.  These  states  are 
opposite,  although  the  beholder  may  mistake  them  for  each  other. 

And  not  only  disease,  but  the  ordinary  state,  shows  the  separateness  of  the 
nervous  pieces.  Through  the  greater  portion  of  life,  thought  and  will  are  dor- 
mant, or  the  tops  of  the  hemispheres  are  not  in  action,  though  the  man  is  con- 
scious. Many  times  also  imagination  and  desire  are  completely  at  rest,  although 
feeling  is  left ;  the  eye  immits  rivers  of  objects  without  stirring  any  motions  but 
its  own  as  it  rolls  magnetically  after  the  pictures.  And  then  again  we  experience 
numerous  twitches  and  convulsive  movements  for  which  we  cannot  account,  or 
in  other  words,  which  are  originated  in  the  circle  below  the  sensual  brain. 

*  Chap.  i.  verses  19—21. 


THE  CEREBRUM  OR  ANIMAL  BRAIN.  35 

to  choice,  and  from  choice  to  desire,  and  thus  stimulate  animal 
actions.  In  short,  there  are  two  minds  in  man ;  the  one  which  he 
possesses  in  common  with  animals;  the  other  which  is  properly 
human.  But  where  do  we  find  these  two  in  the  cerebral  hemi- 
spheres ? 

To  this  we  reply  that  the  whole  cerebrum  is  the  general  sensori- 
um;  that  is  to  say,  the  residence  of  the  animal  mind,  or  the  mind 
of  the  senses.  For  the  fibres  coming  up  from  beneath  diverge  to 
the  entire  cerebrum,  and  terminate  in  its  cortex.  This  brain,  then, 
as  related  to  the  incitements  of  sensation,  comprises  the  various 
powers  which  sensation  stimulates,  and  into  which  it  passes ;  that 
is  to  say,  it  includes  memory,  imagination,  desire,  and  again  the 
corresponding  series  of  animal  determinations  which  give  birth  to 
their  proper  actions.  To  this  general  sensory  and  motory  head  we 
also  refer  many  faculties  which  go  under  the  name  of  instinct;  its 
great  tides  of  change  are  emotions,  joy  and  sorrow,  and  the  like ; 
and  its  general  states  we  term  moods.  The  passions  are  the  lords 
of  this  worldly  brain,  by  which  man  sympathizes  with  all  nature  in 
its  own  way,  being  governed  by  the  moon  and  the  weather,  the 
circumstances  of  his  society  and  his  age,  and  whatever  influences 
come  from  without.  The  absence  of  moral  freedom  characterizes 
its  actions,  when  these  proceed  from  itself  alone.  Its  faculties  are 
vague  and  general,  and  move  altogether  in  their  mass.  It  gives  the 
pervading  temperament  and  tone  to  the  animal  body,  and  being  the 
highest  expression  of  animal  life,  and  bulky  and  forcible  with  our 
whole  nature,  its  actions  animate  the  frame  with  prodigious  vigor 
and  universality,  as  we  see  in  the  case  of  the  various  passions  and 
emotions.  Contrivance,  cunning,  and  a  number  of  conjointly 
human  and  animal  qualities  belong  to  this  general  sensory,  and  put 
on  the  appearance  of  wisdom  or  reason,  not  only  in  animals  but  in 
men  :  so  that  whether  such  or  such  actions  argue  reason  is  an  equal 
problem  in  both  creatures. 

On  the  other  hand  the  human  mind,  as  distinct  from  its  own 
animal  mind,  appears  to  reside  in  the  cortical  circumferences  alone, 
and  to  play  upon  none  but  the  very  centres  of  nervous  power,  and 
not  upon  these  in  the  gross,  but  with  skill  and  discrimination. 
Thus  it  does  not  consist  in  new  materials,  or  fresh  parts,  but  in 


36  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

a  fresh  use  of  parts,  and  a  new  architecture  of  materials.  The 
supreme  superficiality  of  the  cortex  of  the  brain,  its  partition 
into  convolutions,  the  separate  movableness  of  these,  their  brain- 
embracing  wholeness,  show  that  a  freedom  is  possible,  and  a  univer- 
sality conceded,  to  these  parts,  which  neither  the  fibres  per  se,  nor 
the  other  groups  of  cineritious  substances,  can  enjoy.  These  con- 
ditions agree  with  the  requirements  of  thought  and  will,  both  of 
which  are  central  and  concentrative ;  are  seated  at  the  top  of  the 
mind  j  work  by  separation  and  decision,  seizing  upon  main  points 
and  governing  provinces  therefrom  ;  and  both  of  which  finally  can 
claim  any  portion  of  the  domains  of  our  animal  nature,  and  control 
it,  until  its  animal  essence  is  reduced  to  harmony  with  reason's  will. 
These  cortical  substances,  in  their  distinct  use,  are  the  factories  of  men- 
tal skill.  It  is  their  perfection  to  except  neither  temperaments,  nor 
weathers,  nor  the  criminal  influences  of  the  stars,  nor  the  imagina- 
tions, sensations,  or  apparent  relations  of  things,  as  their  allotted 
sphere ;  but  they  shape  and  cultivate  things  and  ideas  afresh ;  they 
recast  influences  on  their  own  principles,  of  truth  or  falsity  :  their 
reception  of  outward  nature  is  the  philosophy  of  the  man ;  their 
works  are  the  creative  arts  of  his  mind;  and  their  judgment  is  his 
moral  soul.  All  this,  we  remark,  demands  no  second  brain  apart 
from  the  general  sensorium,  but  the  command  of  this  in  its  highest 
parts,  where  it  is  free  to  obey,  and  the  rcconstitution  of  those  parts 
by  the  usage  and  skill  of  the  rational  power.  In  this  respect  the 
brain  may  be  likened  to  the  hand,  which  is  a  coarse,  general  and 
animal  tool  in  the  savage,  and  for  some  operations,  such  as  grub- 
bing in  the  earth,  disqualified  by  its  division  into  fingers ;  whilst  in 
the  civilized  man  it  is  extemporized  by  his  mind  and  education  into 
a  running  power  of  convolutions  from  which  tools  proceed  and  arts 
radiate,  until  nature  is  subdued  and  home  is  built :  the  separate  use 
of  the  fingers  being  the  sign  and  cause*  of  this  new  essence  in  the 
hand. 

It  is  therefore  in  the  mind  and  not  in  the  brain,  and  in  the  ration- 
al mind  and  not  in  the  animal  mind,  and  not  in  mere  ends  but  in 
moral  ends,  nor  in  mere  determinations  but  in. moral  determinations, 
that  man  is  different  from  animals.     Or  to  keep  within  our  present 


THE  MIND  OR  RATIONAL  BRAIN.  37 

subject,  man  is  human  or  hyper-animal  because  he  has  a  mind  extra, 
which  uses,  or  can  use,  the  top  of  his  brains. 

The  separateness  of  the  animal  from  the  rational  brain  is  fanc- 
tlonidly  more  distinct  than  the  separateness  between  the  other  parts 
of  the  nervous  system.  Do  we  not  all  perform  vivisection  upon  our- 
selves every  day  in  cutting  reason  off,  and  thinking  and  acting  from 
animal  motives ;  in  keeping  the  mind  under,  while  vague  imagina- 
tion, desire  and  pleasure  over-ride  it  ?  in  merging  it  in  a  sea  of  na- 
tural emotions  and  commotions,  which  allow  reason  no  beginning, 
and  will,  none  of  its  distinctness  ?  But  as  for  the  structural  sepa- 
rateness, the  rational  brain  is  no  other  than  the  mind  itself  as  a 
distinct  organization,  whose  existence  is  demonstrated  by  its  play 
upon  the  cortical  organs.  This  mind  terminates  the  brain,  and  begins 
a  new  subject  with  new  expressions ;  we  cannot  see  it  unless  in  its 
own  way  of  intellectual  sight ;  nor  can  we  now  pursue  it,  because  its 
attributes  hold  no  commerce  with  anatomical  terms. 

The  nerves  or  brain  form  a  representative  system,  which  does  not 
itself  come  in  contact  with  objects  on  the  one  hand,  or  with  actions 
on  the  other,  but  deals  in  the  one  case  with  the  images  of  things,  in 
the  other,  with  the  commands  of  actions.  It  results  from  this,  that 
whatever  will  produce  the  central  impression,  sensation,  imagination, 
or  intellectual  vision,  will  cause  the  appearance  of  the  object,  whether 
it  be  present  or  not.  Thus  if  the  brain  can  radiate  down  to  the 
spinal  cord  a  vibration  like  that  which  the  cord  receives  from  any 
object  as  an  impression  from  without,  the  same  motions  will  be  en- 
gendered as  flow  from  the  apposition  of  a  real  circumstance  or  object. 
So  again,  if  the  brain  can  shake  the  optical  centres  as  light  shakes 
them,  or  can  extemporize  the  part  of  light  within  them,  the  man 
will  have  the  sensation  of  light  as  though  it  were  present  from  the 
sun  or  a  candle.  And  so  too  if  the  soul  or  spirit,  or  any  other  spirit 
or  influence,  can  make  the  imaginations  or  the  thought-movements  in 
the  cerebral  substance,  these  will  seem  as  much  our  own  thoughts 
as  though  no  such  influence  had  been  exerted.  But  in  both  cases, 
be  it  remembered,  there  is  an  object  out  of  the  faculty  excited; 
though  in  the  one  case  the  object  is  out  of  the  organism  externally, 
in  the  other  case  out  of  it  internally. 

Each  of  the  centres  then,  namely,  the  automatic,  the  animal,  and 
4 


38  -THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

the  rational,  are  susceptible  of  a  twofold  excitement;  first,  from  a 
circumambient  world,  or  from  beneath,  through  their  own  proper 
circle :  secondly,  from  the  organism,  or  organisms,  above  them,  and 
thus  indirectly  from  a  higher  circumambient  sphere.  Each  also  has 
its  memory;  which  in  the  spine  is  habit;  in  the  animal  brain  is  pro- 
per memory;  in  the  distinct  cortex  is  principles,  which  hold  things 
together  in  the  bonds  of  ratio  or  reason,  as  memory  combines  them 
in  the  bonds  of  a  common  sensation.  Habit  then  is  the  spine  of  the 
nerve-man;  memory  is  his  world  of  sense,  or  his  senses;  and  reason 
is  his  proper  head. 

Let  us  now  pause  for  a  moment  to  ask  cursorily  the  use  of  the 
brain  to  the  mind,  as  illustrated  by  the  foregoing  observations. 
Now,  what  is  the  use  of  the  spinal  cord  to  the  senses  and  the  brain  ? 
for  this  will  give  us  a  similitude  of  the  answer  to  the  previous  ques- 
tion. Its  use  is,  to  carry  the  general  cerebral  principles  into  an 
automatic  or  mechanical  sphere,  and  there  to  set  them  up  in  uncon- 
scious operations.  Thus,  the  spinal  cord  makes  motions  which  look 
as  though  they  proceeded  from  emotions,  when  yet  there  is  nothing 
felt.  This  dramatic  mechanics,  is  the  marrow  of  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, and  consequently  of  the  body.  As  a  principle  it  reigns  through- 
out it.  The  whole  system  is  a  quasi  thing;  a  mental  theatre  or 
drama.  The  spinal  cord  moves  as  though  it  felt;  the  medulla  ob- 
longata breathes  and  eats,  as  if  it  were  instinct  with  appetites :  the 
senses  feel,  as  if  they  were  conscious :  and  the  brain  understands,  as 
though  it  were  a  spirit.  The  cheek,  too,  blushes,  as  though  it  were 
ashamed;  and  so  forth.  But  all  is  quasi,  and  depends  upon  a  real- 
ity somewhere  which  is  in  none  of  the  actors;  and  which  reality,  prox- 
imately, lies  in  a  spiritual  organism,  or  in  the  human  mind.  Take 
this  away,  and  the  mimicry  is  soon  at  an  end. 

Thus  far,  then,  the  use  of  the  brain  to  the  mind  is,  to  enable  the 
latter  to  personate  itself  in  a  dead  world,  which  it  could  not  do  with- 
out a  brain  and  body,  really  dead,  and  yet  seemingly  or  dramatically 
alive. 

It  is  not  long  since  it  was  believed  that  the  actions  of  the  spinal 
marrow  were  evidences  of  consciousness,  and  that  feeling  was  im- 
plied in  its  habitual  regular  movements.  And  it  is  still  thought  by 
many  that  sense  or  feeling  is  necessarily  connected  with  conscious- 


ITS  PERSONATION  OF  MIND  AND  LIFE.  39 

ness :  and  by  almost  all,  that  consciousness  is  where  it  seems,  namely, 
in  the  head,  and  not  in  the  mind.  But  strike  away  the  lower  falla- 
cy, that  muscular  or  convulsive  action  has  any  necessary  connection 
with  feeling,  and  the  other  fallacies  also  totter.  For  if  without  feel- 
ing or  motive  we  can  be  impressed  and  act  through  the  spinal  cord, 
we  can,  without  an  inherent  mind,  understand  and  will  in  the  cere- 
bral hemispheres.  Or,  in  other  words,  as  dead  a  structure  in  the 
brain  may  be  in  apposition  with  the  mind,  for  mental  purposes,  as 
that  which  is  added  to  the  brain  in  the  spine  for  impressional  and 
motor  ends.  The  corollary  is,  that  life  is  not  in  the  body  at  all,  in 
the  brain  any  more  than  in  the  nails;  but  that  the  body  is  essen- 
tially dramatic;  can  feel,  as  itivere}  think,  as  it  icere,  and  will,  as  it 
were :  which,  indeed,  is  the  reason  why  the  soul,  desirous  of  doing 
all  these  things  in  a  world  which  likewise  is  dramatic,  adheres  to  a 
frame  which  is  so  perfect  a  medium  of  representations  or  mundane 
actions. 

But  let  us  also  consider  for  a  moment  the  relation  of  the  mind  to 
the  brain,  by  an  inverse  analogy,  namely,  the  relation  of  the  brain 
to  the  spinal  marrow.  What,  then,  is  the  latter?  The  difference 
of  place  between  the  two,  and  the  difference  of  calibre,  are  too  ob- 
vious to  mention.  The  one  is  the  head  of  which  the  other  is  the 
foot,  the  one  is  the  luminous  globe  of  which  the  other  is  the  ray.* 
Now,  the  brain  performs  or  instigates  on  new  grounds,  with  new 
efficacy,  and  in  a  thousand  thousand  new  forms,  the  general  auto- 
matic actions  of  the  spinal  marrow;  for  it  extracts  the  secret  and 
meaning  from  sensible  impressions,  and  produces  actions  correspond- 
ent with  the  circumstances  which  that  meaning  shows  to  exist.  All 
the  actions  of  man  are  proximately  brain-work;  so  also  are  all  his 
perceptions :  whereas  a  few  automatic  movements  and  convulsions 
are  the  whole  of  the  actions  that  can  be  assigned  to  the  spinal  mar- 
row. We  have  here  a  glimpse  of  the  transcendent  nature  of  the 
next  higher  term  of  the  series ;  and  if  by  the  rule  of  three  we  may 
say,  as  the  spinal  cord  is  to  the  brain,  so  is  the  brain  to  the  mind, 

*  Here  we  may  remark  that  we  agree  with  the  ancients,  that  the  spinal  cord  is 
a  continuation  of  the  brain ;  although  it  is  also,  as  the  moderns  say,  an  axis  of  in- 
dependent centres;  but  its  dependence  is  a  longer  truth  than  its  independence. 


40  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

we  shall  admit  that  perfections,  amplitude,  and  newness  of  function 
will  occur  in  the  latter  which  it  baffles  words  to  describe. 

The  same  truth  is  presented  by  comparison  of  the  parts  of  the 
brain  within  itself.     Thus  from  the  great  cortical  surface  of  the  ce- 
rebral globes  the  white  fibres  radiate  downwards  and  inwards,  the  ca- 
libre of  the  radiant  mass  becoming  smaller  as  it  travels.     Presently 
the  rays  are  arrested  by  a  new  bed  of  cortical  substance,  that  in  its  turn 
sends  down  radiating  fibres,  which  similarly  converge  and  decrease. 
The  same  process,  of  encountering  the  cortical  part,  starting  afresh,  and 
always  diminishing,  is  repeated,  until  both  the  cerebellum  and  the  ce- 
rebrum terminate  in  the  small  medulla  oblongata,  and  in  the  narrow 
spinal  cord.     Thus  powers  are  stopped  off  and  arrested  as  the  brain 
descends;  or  reasoning  backwards,  as  Gall  has  done,  they  are  added 
(    on  as  the  medulla  oblongata  ascends.     What  must  be  the  addition 
I    that  takes  place  in  the  mind  ?  what  the  new  breadth  in  its  cortical 
(    spheres?  what  the  acres  of  the  sheaves  and, bundles  of  its  intellect- 
(   ual  light?  and  what,  on  the  other  hand,  the  gulf  of  loss  and  de- 
,    gradation  that  lies  between  it  and  even  the  highest  portions  of  the 
brain  ? 

Thus  far  we  have  attempted  a  slight  sketch  of  what  may  be  said 
with  some  certainty  of  the  functions  of  the  nervous  system.  We 
have  found  that  it  consists  firstly  of  an  automatic  apparatus,  the 
spinal  brain,  by  which  contacts  are  apprehended,  and  motions  ex- 
ecuted, without  the  intervention  of  our  consciousness:  secondly,  of 
an  animal  brain,  which  is  to  all  intents  and  purposes  an  animal,  or 
imagines,  desires,  lusts,  contrives,  plans  and  acts  from  animal  mo- 
tives, though  very  imperfectly,  from  defect  of  instinct,  which  is  the 
limiting  perfection  of  the  beasts ;  and  thirdly,  of  a  rational  and  vo- 
luntary function,  playing  in  its  revolving  cortex,  and  evidencing  the 
presence  of  an  invisible  mind,  whose  action  reveals  the  human  brain. 
Thus  we  have  found  that  the  brain  per  se  is  not  human,  but  perpe- 
tually humanized;  and  that  in  its  openness  to  that  which  is  next 
above  it,  and  its  docility  to  the  spirit,  lies  its  grand  endowment.  In 
thus  proceeding  from  below  upwards,  we  have  been  separating  parts 
whose  perfection  lies  in  their  harmonious  union.  We  must  now 
make  amends  by  declaring,  that  the  influence  of  reason,  permeating 
the  animal  brain,  gives  it  powers  super-eminent  over  instinct;  and 


UNITY  AND  DISUNITY  OF  THE  NERVOUS  SYSTEM.  41 

as  man  domesticates  the  animals,  or  chooses  those  which  suit  his 
purpose,  and  abolishes  the  rest,  so  does  reason  govern  the  moods  of 
the  brain,  feeds  upon  its  tranquil  emotions  and  compresses  those 
which  are  fierce,  governs  its  imaginations,  and,  in  a  word,  civilizes 
the  savage  countries  of  the  original  head.  All  this  is  no  work  of 
passion,  or  simple  pleasure  or  pain,  but  of  artist-like  struggle  and 
contest,  whereby  reason,  or  the  true  ratio  between  the  mind  and  the 
brain,  begins  to  be  established,  and  the  little  spots  already  cultivated 
are  extended  until  the  rest  is  won.  In  this  high  state  of  the  brain 
the  human  faculties  permeate  the  cerebrum,  and  the  animal  faculties, 
prodigiously  cultivated  beyond  the  wild  state,  are  everywhere  parallel 
with  the  rational  powers.  And  so,  too,  the  mechanical  faculties,  all 
the  manufactures  of  thought,  or  the  mere  motions  of  the  body :  these 
are  surrounded  by  a  consciousness  which  knows  what  they  will  be, 
before  they  appear ;  they  are  developed  into  mechanism  after  me- 
chanism— all  the  inventions  of  reason  and  will  in  the  mechanical 
sphere.  This  is  a  condition  of  the  nervous  system  which  is  seldom 
witnessed,  but  we  place  it  as  a  counterpart  to  the  state  of  disunion 
considered  before :  the  ordinary  state  is  a  kind  of  composition  be- 
tween the  two,  and  can  easily  be  constructed  out  of  these  extremes. 

I  do  not  know  that  we  can  escape  generalities  in  treating  of  the 
functions  of  the  brain.  Certainly  at  present,  when  we  go  inwards, 
whether  into  the  head  or  the  mind,  a  few  powers  present  themselves, 
very  little  colored,  and  with  none  but  a  general  outline.  The  gray 
and  white  shadows  of  metaphysics  seem  to  answer  to  the  cineritious 
and  medullary  groups  of  the  nervous  system.  But  there  is  no  doubt 
that  the  truths  of  this  class  are  valuable,  as  the  pure  science  of  the 
body;  and  that  they  are  the  outlines  of  a  multitude  of  moreinterest- 
ing  sciences. 

There  is  indeed  a  branch  -which  it  has  been  thought  throws  a 
broader  light  on  the  nature  of  the  brain  :  we  allude  to  phrenology. 
This  office  of  phrenology  we  regard  however  as  a  misapprehension. 
As  we  understand  phrenolog}T,  it  is  a  science  of  independent  obser- 
vation, which  is  completed  in  tracing  the  correspondence  between  the 
surface  of  the  living  head  and  the  character  of  the  individual.  It 
was  as  such  that  its  edifice  arose  stone  by  stone  in  the  hands  of  the 

illustrious  Gall.     He  noticed  that  portions  of  the  surface  of  the  head 

4* 


42  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

stood  out  in  those  who  were  prominent  in  certain  faculties,  and  put- 
ting the  bodily  and  mental  prominences  together  (for  which  may  he 
be  honored !),  he  arrived  by  repeated  instances  at  the  signs  of  the 
character  as  they  are  written  upon  the  head.     He  completed  the 
dark  half  of  the  globe  of  physiognomy,  and  letting  his  active  observa- 
tion shine  upon  it,  he  found  the  rest  of  the  head  representative  of 
the  whole  character,  as  the  face  is  expressive  of  the  mind.     Expres- 
sion, we  may  remark,  is  living  representation,  and  representation  is 
dead  expression.     The  representation  of  the  man  by  his  head  had 
always  been  vaguely  felt,  and  the  best  sculptors  and  poets  had  imaged 
their  gods  and  heroes  with  phrenological  truth.     But  Gall  made  their 
high  intuitions  so  current  that  all  could  buy  them.     Now  this  de- 
partment of  physiognomy  surely  night  be  carried  to  the  perfection 
peculiar  to  itself  without  the  head  being  opened.     Nay,  it  would  be 
best  learned  without  breaking  the  surface ;  for  the  beauty  of  expres- 
sion and  representation  lies  in  their  bringing  what  they  signify  to 
the  surface,  and  depositing  it  there.     But  for  this  purpose  the  surface 
must  be  whole.     There  is  no  interval  between  life  and  its  hiero- 
glyphics, but  the  one  is  within  the  other,  as  a  wheel  within  a  wheel. 
The  thing  signified  by  the  organ  of  form  is  form,  and  not  a  piece  of 
cerebrum :  love  is  meant  by  the  protuberance  of  amativeness,  and 
not  the  cerebellum :  and  so  forth.     It  is  superficiality,  and  not  depth, 
that  is  excellence  here.     The  deep  ones  had  dug  for  ages  in  the 
brain,  and  found  nothing  but  abstract  truth  :  Gall  came  out  of  the 
cerebral  well,  and  looking  upon  the  surface  found  that  it  was  a  land- 
scape, inhabited  by  human  natures  in  a  thousand  tents,  all  dwelling 
according  to  passions,  faculties  and  powers.     So  much  was  gained  by 
the  first  man  who  came  to  the  surface,  where  nature  speaks  by  re- 
presentations ;  but  it  is  lost  again  at  the  point  where  cerebral  anatomy 
begins.     Gall  himself  was  an  instance  of  this,  for  he  was  one  of  the 
greatest  and  most  successful  of  the  anatomists  of  the  brain.     But 
when  the  skull  is  off,  his  phrenology  deserts  him,  the  human  interest 
ceases,  and  his  descriptions  of  the  fibres  and  the  gray  matter  are  as 
purely  physical  as  if  they  were  of  the  ropes  and  pulleys  of  a  ship. 

It  must  however  be  supposed  that  the  brain  has  a  definite  ratio  to 
the  head,  but  what  that  ratio  may  be,  is  an  undecided  question.  It 
is  difficult  to  prove  that  the  risings  and  fallings  of  the  skull  corres- 


PHRENOLOGY.  43 

pond  exactly  with  those  of  the  brain.  This  is  of  no  consequence  to 
phrenology  as  a  science  of  observation.  And  it  does  not  follow  that 
the  representation  of  faculties  is  equivalent  to  physical  correspondence 
or  similar  undulation  of  surface.  The  nose  represents  the  sense  of 
smell,  although  the  olfactory  nerve  does  not  lie  under  it  in  the  form 
of  a  nerve  nose.  And  destructiveness  may  lie  in  its  bony  den  with- 
out exactly  fitting  the  bone.  On  the  contrary  we  might  suppose  that 
where  activity  was  involved,  there  would  be  room  for  exercise;  and 
that  the  inner  table  of  the  skull  would  represent  something  more 
than  the  limits  of  the  greatest  exertions  of  the  faculty — the  arms- 
length,  spring  and  hatchet-play,  for  instance,  of  the  destroying  organ. 

Moreover,  looking  at  the  instance  of  the  face,  it  does  not  appear 
certain  that  the  ratio  is  between  the  surface  and  the  parts  immedi- 
ately beneath  it.  Concealment  and  projection  are  elements  of  repre- 
sentation. The  eyes  are  put  forth  far  away  from  those  cerebral 
origins  which  they  signify,  and  with  which  they  communicate.  The 
parts  that  functionally  underlie  the  eyes  are  not  the  structures  nearest 
to  them  inwards.  The  superficial-making  process  is  often  slanting, 
as  is  seen  in  the  ducts  of  many  organs,  which  carry  the  produce  by 
which  they  represent  the  organ  to  a  spot  remote  from  the  surface 
above  it. 

We  are  inclined  however  to  believe  that  there  is  a  fitness  between 
the  parts  of  the  phrenological  head  and  the  brain  underneath  them. 
And  we  suspect  also  that  the  ratio  is  one  of  quantity.  For  when 
we  consider  the  whole  frame  as  representative,  the  front  half  of  the 
body  stands  for  expression,  or  that  which  represents  the  mind  ac- 
tively, and  in  the  face  intelligibly ;  while  the  back  half  stands  for 
representation  or  reaction.  The  front  impresses  spiritually,  the  back 
materially ;  or  in  other  words,  the  front  acts,  and  the  back  reacts. 
Now  the  reaction  consists  in  the  gross  pushing  of  the  frame,  while 
the  action  is  skillfully  supported  upon  this,  and  busy  in  the  front. 
This  pushing  for  a  rest  necessarily  is  quantitative,  and  moulds  to  its 
shape  what  it  comes  against,  if  the  latter  can  take  an  impression. 
The  skill  of  action  on  the  other  hand  similarly  moulds,  but  at  a  dis- 
tance from  itself,  and  upon  the  models  of  quality  or  design,  which 
issue  from  its  creative  fingers.  Now  it  seems  as  if  the  brain,  con- 
sidered as  made  of  organs,  and  as  determined  to  without,  leans  the 


44  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

backs  of  those  organs  against  the  skull,  their  fronts  being  turned  to 
the  origins  of  the  nerves  of  the  face  and  body ;  and  thus  gives  upon 
the  skull  the  back  or  passive  side  of  the  character,  and  a  portion  of 
the  front  or  active  side  in  the  face. 

But  still  the  push  of  the  organs  against  the  skull  and  their  pro- 
trusion or  apparent  bulk,  would  not  show  that  the  protrusion  upon 
the  head  was  primarily  due  to  the  subjacent  organ.  In  a  soft  and 
yielding  mass  like  the  brain,  the  strong  and  energetic  parts  would, 
it  seems,  hold  their  places,  displace  the  others,  and  cause  the  weak- 
est to  go  to  the  wall.  Thus  a  stout  eminence  on  the  head  might 
signify  firmness,  though  the  organ  of  firmness  were  far  away,  making 
room  for  himself  in  all  directions,  and  ousting  the  feeblest  parts  of 
the  brain  into  the  poorest  places,  aside  from  the  rest.  In  fact,  power 
is  always  felt  physically  at  a  distance  from  itself,  where  reaction  and 
resistance  begin.  Thus  feeble  races  are  pushed  up  into  the  moun- 
tains before  their  conquerors,  where  their  condition  indeed  signifies 
power,  but  it  is  unfortunately  the  power  of  their  enemies,  and  their 
own  weakness.  We  might  then  expect  that  in  the  reactive  skull 
the  greatest  prominences  should  have  under  them  the  most  passive 
portions  of  the  brain.  And  if  this  be  the  case,  the  phrenology  of 
the  brain  would  be  the  inverse  of  that  of  the  head,  and  each  depres- 
sion or  elevation  on  the  skull  would  not  be  the  result  of  a  simple 
pressure,  but  of  the  varying  balance  of  two  or  more  faculties  or  or- 
gans, pressing  each  other  up  or  down  as  the  case  may  be.  It  does 
not  seem  impossible  that  such  a  phrenology  of  the  brain  should  be 
constituted ;  which  if  it  were,  it  would  signify  the  strength  and  weak- 
ness of  the  character,  both  written  on  the  surface.  Undoubtedly 
many  of  the  exaggerations  of  character  proceed  from  the  imperfect 
resistance  offered  by  some  of  the  faculties,  and  show  their  strength 
in  the  direction  of  our  greatest  weaknesses.  Thus  their  forcible  na- 
ture argues  the  compliance  and  not  the  active  strength  of  the  mind 
which  immediately  executes  them.  If  this  hold  good  of  the  skull 
also,  then  it  contains  no  organs,  but  merely  passive  evidences  of  the 
faculties,  and  we  are  brought  again  to  the  point,  that  phrenology  is 
more  properly  to  be  called  cranioscopy,  and  to  be  regarded  as  the 
mute  complement  of  physiognomy. 

Moreover  the  correspondence  between  insides  and  outsides  can- 


PHRENOLOGY,  45 

not  be  calculated  upon  with  nicety.  Circumstances  not  only  environ 
essentials,  but  alter  their  shapes  and  seemings.  The  skull,  as  a  cir- 
cumstance surrounding  the  brain,  may  represent  it  badly,  as  a  poor 
gift  of  language  may  choke  the  utterance  of  a  rich  heart.  It  by  no 
means  follows  that  there  is  harmonious  co-development  of  the  parts, 
but  on  the  other  hand,  the  instances  of  this  perfection  are  rare. 
Brains  may  be  born  into  inconvenient  cases,  just  as  good  human 
minds,  veritable  immortal  children,  are  born  into  idiot  brains. 
Difference  of  form,  also,  and  consequent  difference  of  distribution  of 
the  constituent  parts,  may  be  expected  between  different  races.  If 
the  climate  and  the  wants  of  life  are  various,  the  shape  of  the  life 
and  its  parts  will  be  various  also;  the  faculties  will  consent  to  the 
circumstances  and  grow  in  their  training.  Ideality  will  not  fight 
with  hope  for  any  precise  chair  of  bone,  when  the  relations  alter, 
and  another  piece  is  naturally  offered.  A  faculty  squeezed  in  by 
circumstances  will  rise  up  somewhere  else,  or  cause  the  protrusion 
of  some  other  part.  It  seems  clear,  then,  that  the  brain  will  con- 
sent to  be  packed  differently;  that  if  its  external  world  or  climate, 
viz.,  the  skull  and  membranes,  are  of  a  new  type,  its  resources  will 
not  be  overset,  but  developed  in  a  new  direction.  But  this  does  not 
disprove  phrenology,  though  it  may  perhaps  cause  us  to  hope  that 
there  are  phrenologies  besides  the  European,  and  that  this  little 
science  also  is  of  a  spherical  richness. 

Perhaps  we  have  been  too  much  accustomed  to  regard  the  exterior 
head  as  a  mere  wrappage  of  the  brain,  whereas,  like  other  externals, 
it  is  independent  like  the  brain  itself,  and  has  its  own  centres  of 
structure  and  function.  We  have  likened  it  to  a  country  or  climate 
that  the  brain  inhabits,  and  pursuing  the  analogy  we  may  say,  that 
the  inhabitant  did  not  make  his  country,  nor  can  he  modify  it, 
excepting  in  so  far  as  he  is  modified  by  it.  True,  he  is  destined  to 
mould  it  to  his  wants;  but  then  the  wants  themselves  draw  their 
forms  from  the  climate.  Hence  we  see  that  in  the  greatest  shell  or 
skull  which  is  built  up  around  every  man,  namely,  his  vault  of  sky, 
and  what  it  contains,  a  typical  difference  exists  which  cannot  be 
reduced  for  different  vaults  to  a  single  rule  :  the  skull  of  heaven 
has  many  shapes,  and  societies  or  brains  fill  them  differently : 
destructiveness  in  one  wages  itself  upon  lions  and  tigers,  or  is  com- 


46  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

mitted  to  the  arms  and  hands  \  in  another,  it  goes  forth  with  the 
powers  of  the  mouth  or  the  sword  of  the  spirit.  Phrenology, 
following  this  order,  must  rather  start  from  a  type,  and  gradually 
depart  from  that,  than  attempt  to  make  the  type  universal  in  the 
relations  of  shape  and  place.  In  short  we  must  admit  a  compara- 
tive phrenology  in  the  human  race  itself. 

Phrenology,  however,  is  one  of  a  group  of  sciences  different  from 
anatomy,  and  its  truths  are  of  larger  stature  than  those  which  we 
are  considering.  It  belongs  to  the  doctrine,  not  of  the  human 
body,  but  of  man,  and  is  one  of  the  lesser  departments  of  anthropo- 
logy. It  furnishes  also  a  contribution  to  that  which  is  the  science 
of  sciences,  namely,  the  significance  of  forms.  Considered  as  a 
branch  of  observation  it  has  not  been  assailed  successfully,  because 
no  one  has  paid  so  much  attention  to  its  facts  as  the  phrenological 
student.  We  take  his  word  for  its  truth,  at  least  provisionally, 
since  the  oppugners  have  formed  no  contrary  induction,  which  in 
destroying  phrenology,  might  supplant  it  by  a  better  practical 
system.  And  if  we  are  not  mistaken,  the  world  will  give  it  a 
long  trial,  were  it  only  that  it  deals  with  the  substances  of  character, 
and  seems  to  create  a  solid  play-ground  away  from  the  abstractions 
of  the  old  metaphysics.  Color  and  life,  substance  and  shape,  are 
dear  to  mankind,  as  homes  against  the  wind  of  cold  speculation. 
We  cannot  give  them  up  for  patches  of  sky  a  thousand  miles  from 
the  earth,  or  for  anything,  in  short,  but  still  more  substantial  houses. 

An  important  set  of  problems  concerning  the  brain  and  nervous 
system  remains  to  be  noticed;  namely,  the  doctrine  on  the  one 
hand,  and  the  denial  on  the  other,  of  a  nervous  spirit  or  fluid.  On 
this  subject  interest  has  ceased,  in  consequence  partly  of  the  use- 
lessness  of  the  controversy.  Each  party  has  wielded  a  sword  to 
which  the  other  was  invulnerable;  a  sign  that  Providence  did  not 
intend  the  dispute  to  be  settled  upon  the  terms  of  either.  Nor 
perhaps  can  we  ourselves  command  a  decisive  victory  for  our 
opinions,  which  are  affirmative  of  the  existence  of  a  nervous  spirit. 
Nevertheless  we  think  that  our  side  has  been  increasing  in  strength 
of  late,  and  that  the  contest  must  be  renewed. 

In   the   first  place  we  remark,  that  no  part  of  our  frames  is  so 


THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  47 

little  given  up  to  sight  -and  sense  as  the  live  brain  and  nervous 
system.  No  part  is  so  much  alarmed,  or  presumably  so  much 
altered,  by  exposure.  Nay,  there  is  no  part  in  which  there  is  less 
to  see  than  in  this  supreme  organization.  Detail  and  structure  and 
the  broad  lines  of  design  begin  to  be  inappreciable,  as  a  preparation 
for  the  indwelling  and  shadowing  forth  of  something  which  is  abso- 
lutely invisible  to  the  senses.  Per  contra  there  is  no  part  in  which 
there  is  so  much  left  to  fancy,  to  imagination,  and  to  the  inner  eye 
of  reason.  Tempered  thoughts  seem  to  be  the  only  steel  that  can 
open  the  viscera  of  thought.  The  method  d  priori  appears  to  be  as 
much  prescribed  by  nature  for  investigating  organs  that  work  &  pri- 
ori, or  from  life  downwards,  as,  they  say,  it  is  proscribed  from  those 
where  the  senses  give  immediate  information.  The  truths  that  we 
can  see,  we  do  not  discern  by  reason ;  but  conversely  reason  must 
discern  those  which  the  eye  cannot  see.  If  all  truth  is  a  posteriori, 
then  the  physiologist  can  see  the  living  brain  in  vision.  But  as  he 
has  lost  this  faculty,  reason  in  the  meantime  must  have  place. 

Now  neither  of  the  parties  in  the  above  controversy  has  ever  seen, 
still  less  dissected,  the  living  brain,  meaning  thereby  the  brain  in 
the  exercise  of  its  functions,  thinking  and  reasoning  in  its  peaceful 
head.  On  both  hands,  then,  imagination  has  been  active  in  all  that 
has  been  said.  The  question  therefore  is,  as  in  several  other  cases, 
Which  party  has  the  best  set  of  imaginations?  measuring  the  ex- 
cellence on  cither  side  by  the  fruits  that  it  produces  in  its  department. 
Which  set  of  conceptions — the  affirmative  or  the  negative — comes 
nearest  to  life,  and  to  those  attributes  which  will  fit  the  highest  organ 
of  man's  body,  and  one  which  receives  the  influences  of  his  mind? 
For  reasons  of  analogy,  necessity  and  experience,  we  adhere  to  those 
imaginations  and  thoughts  that  postulate  a  nervous  spirit. 

Be  it  observed,  however,  that  we  do  not  dogmatize  respecting  the 
physical  properties  of  this  which  we  term  a  fluid.  In  reasoning  by 
analogy,  we  are  forced  to  take  with  us  the  garb  of  the  known  sphere, 
and  to  talk  of  a  fluid,  because  the  body  furnishes  the  word.  We 
desire,  however,  to  hold  the  term  loosely,  and  no  longer  than  until 
a  better  analogy,  or  the  real  name,  arises. 

It  is  well  known  that  influences  mount  from  the  body  to  the  head 
in  sensation,  and  descend  from  the  head  to  the  body  in  voluntary 


48  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

motion;  and  anatomy  demonstrates  that  the  course  of  these  influ- 
ences is;  in  sensation,  from  the  skin  and  sensories  through  the  nerves 
to  the  brain ;  and  in  action  or  motion,  from  the  brain  through  the 
nerves  to  the  muscles,  bones,  skin :  in  short,  to  the  body  as  set  in 
motion.  Furthermore  investigation  shows,  that  the  course  of  the 
same  is,  from  the  nervous  fibres  and  fibrils,  through  the  medullary 
fibres  of  the  brain,  to  the  cortical  or  gray  substances  at  its  surface 
and  in  other  parts.  What  do  we  deduce  from  this  known  transit 
of  influence?  Or  what  is  the  meaning  of  the  ambiguous  term, 
influence? 

Two  views  have  been  current.  On  the  one  side  it  is  maintained 
that  the  fibres  are  solid,  and  that  the  influence  is  a  vibration  which 
traverses  the  fibres  in  both  directions.  On  the  other  hand,  the  in- 
fluence is  regarded  as  a  real  influxion,  and  the  fibres  are  regarded  as 
conduits,  permeated  by  a  fluid.  There  is  a  third  hypothesis,  of  a 
gelatinous  or  other  fluid  in  the  nerves,  which  propagates  forces  by 
waves  or  undulations,  but  does  not  itself  move  forward :  but  this  is 
only  a  subdivision  of  the  doctrine  of  vibration.  And  there  is  a 
fourth  view — that  we  can.  know  anything  about  the  matter.  But 
we  do  not  yet  know  what  can  be  known.  In  thus  classifying  opin- 
ions we  by  no  means  intend  to  convey  that  they  are  held  sharply  by 
any  one  at  present:  on  this  subject  the  state  of  most  inquiring 
minds  is  mixed;  indeed  the  apathy  felt  of  late  respecting  the  con- 
troversy is  too  profound  to  admit  of  distinctness  of  parties. 

I.  If  the  fibres  were  solid,  and  traversed,  not  by  a  fluid,  but  by  a 
vibration  or  undulation,  such  vibration  would  be  dissipated  into  the 
surrounding  parts,  especially  in  the  brain,  where  the  fibres  lie  close 
together.  The  softness  and  non-elasticity  of  all  parts  of  the  nervous 
system  seem  unadapted  to  mere  vibration  being  communicated,  for 
vibration  depends  upon  tension,  and  the  only  condition  of  tension  in 
such  a  system  lies  in  a  movable  fluid  distending  the  fibres.  And 
when  a  nerve  is  tied,  the  sensation  or  motion  which  is  supplied  be- 
comes arrested  at  once,  which  would  not  be  the  case  if  these  de- 
pended upon  vibration.  Certainly  nothing  can  be  conceived  less 
adapted  than  the  brain  and  nerves,  to  the  ordinate  propagation  of 
electricity  or  any  other  imponderable,  unless  limited  to  a  fluid  vehicle. 
The  hypothetical  currents  of  vibration,  however,  must  be  ordinate 


THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  49 

and  distinct  beyond  measure,  for  on  the  one  hand  they  are  the  lines 
of  thought  and  will,  sensation  and  action;  and  on  the  other,  the 
fibrillation  of  the  brain  is  exquisitely  minute  and  separate  even  to 
the  naked  eye.  We  gather  from  these  reasons,  that  if  the  nervous 
current  be  in  any  analogy  with  electricity,  galvanism,  or  other  im- 
ponderable, it  must  itself  still  be  regarded  as  an  incarnate  imponder- 
able; as  might  be  anticipated  from  its  domestication  in  the  human 
body.  But  an  incarnate  imponderable,  preserving  its  velocity  on 
the  one  hand,  and  being  embodied  on  the  other,  is  only  conceivable 
as  an  animal  fluid  or  a  fluid  animal,  whose  speed  and  other  attributes 
are  life-like,  thought-like,  will-like,  and  sense-like. 

II.  The  analogies  of  the  grosser  parts  point  to  the  tubular  struc- 
ture of  the  nerves.  In  the  body,  where  there  is  an  organ  as  a  bed, 
and  trunks,  branches  and  twigs  proceed  from  it,  the  derivations  are 
hollow,  and  carry  a  fluid.  This  is  the  case  with  the  heart,  the  lungs, 
the  stomach,  the  liver,  the  kidneys,  the  pancreas,  &c.  On  this  ground 
we  understand  their  functions;  in  their  produce  we  recognize  their 
use  in  the  economy.  Again,  what  reason  can  we  give  for  the  quantity 
of  blood  which  is  applied  to  the  brain,  and  which  is  more  in  pro- 
portion than  is  sent  to  other  organs,  if  it  be  only  required  for  its 
nutrition,  and  not  for  supplying  a  large  quantity  of  fluid.  How  also 
can  we  account  for  the  physical  debility  consequent  upon  certain 
effects,  unless  by  a  waste  and  spending  of  a  fluid?  And  recurring 
to  analogy,  does  it  not  seem  to  be  in  the  order  of  things,  that  the 
living  principle  should  act  through  the  fluid  upon  the  solid,  when  we 
find  that  the  more  living  parts  of  the  body,  as  the  brain  and  nerves, 
are  the  softest;  and  the  less  living,  as  the  tendons,  ligaments,  and 
bones,  are  the  harder  and  the  hardest :  also  that  in  the  earliest  stages 
of  formation  all  things  are  fluid,  and  at  the  very  beginning,  a  fluid, 
and  that  hardness  grows  up  by  degrees,  and  plasticity  ceases;  old 
age  consisting  physically  in  stiffness,  unyieldingness  and  ossification. 
Further,  that  the  change  of  pervious  canals  into  solid  ligaments, 
fibres  or  threads,  which  takes  place  often  in  the  body,  is  always  a 
change  from  vitality  towards  the  contrary;  showing  that  the  solid 
form  is  a  degradation  of  the  previous  fluid,  and  not  vice  versa,  It 
seems  then  a  prepared  belief,  that  the  nearest  thing  to  life  is  the 
most  life-like,  the  most  movable,  the  most  quick,  in  short,  the  most 
5 


50  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

fluid;  in  a  word,  that  a  nervous  fluid  is  itself  the  first  organ  in  the 
body,  and  the  physical  handle  of  the  spirit. 

III.  To  come  to  experience,  what  are  we  to  think  of  the  pulpy, 
semi-liquid  texture  of  the  brain  itself,  and  of  the  immense  propor- 
tion in  which  fluid  enters  into  its  composition  ?  That  there  is  a 
cerebral  fluid  is  past  doubt,  for  the  brain  consists  of  almost  nothing 
else.  And  if  three-fourths  of  the  mind's  organ  are  fluid,  certainly 
that  portion  is  subject  to  mental  arrangement,  like  the  rest.  When 
the  mind  is  gone,  the  arrangement  is  gone,  and  hence  the  dead  brain 
gives  no  response  respecting  the  nature  of  the  fluid.  Nor  indeed 
would  the  sight  of  the  living  brain  reveal  the  mystery,  unless  the 
observer  had  some  thoughts  commensurate  with  the  organization 
which  prevails  in  these  provinces  of  the  soul.  A  fibre  of  truth, 
tubular  from  heaven  downwards,  and  a  fluid  mind  travelling  in  it — 
in  short  open  faculties — would  be  the  only  conditions  of  discernment, 
even  if  the  skull  were  a  window  through  which  the  brain  could  be 
seen.  But  at  least  we  can  conclude,  that  the  so-called  serum  of  the 
dissecting-room  is  only  the  corpse  of  the  cerebral  spirit.  It  is  true 
the  dead  body  retains  its  shape  when  life  has  gone,  and  is  therefore 
instructive  still,  but  the  animal  fluids  undergo  alterations  even  in 
form,  when  they  fall  out  of  their  native  shapes,  the  vessels,  as  wit- 
nessed in  the  coagulation  of  the  blood.  And  for  this  reason  these 
liquid  corpses  teach  absolutely  nothing  of  the  properties  of  the  living 
fluids. 

To  illustrate  these  remarks,  we  will  put  an  analogous  case  of  a 
larger  order.  Suppose  that  London  were  visible  from  one  of  the 
stars,  and  were  known  to  be  a  city  of  the  living,  but  its  inhabitants 
were  not  within  the  power  of  vision.  And  suppose  further  that  the 
stellar  people  were  of  those  who  believe  nothing  but  what  they  can 
sec.  It  is  clear  that  the  outworks  and  great  channels  of  London 
life  falling  under  their  ken,  would  be  mistaken  for  the  living  things. 
And  as  life  always  brings  motion  to  mind,  the  vibrations  and  shak- 
ings of  the  houses  and  walls  of  our  metropolis,  would  be  postulated 
as  the  life  which  was  alleged.  But  suppose  further,  that  on  some 
coronation  day  vast  crowds  of  the  inhabitants  assembled,  and  formed 
a  dark  mass  before  the  eyes  of  the  gazing  star ;  this  would  of  course 
be  taken  to  be  of  the  same  substance  and  rank  with  the  houses,  and 


THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  51 

the  identification  of  life  with  bricks  and  mortar  would  still  stand. 
In  this  case  the  truth,  or  the  living  multitudes,  though  seen,  would 
lend  itself  to  the  fallacy ;  the  only  escape  from  which  would  be  by 
analogy,  proclaiming  that  solid  houses  everywhere  are  dead,  though 
inhabited  by  fluid  or  freely  movable  living  beings ;  by  imagination 
or  hypothesis,  guessing  that  towns  and  streets  are  for  men,  and  not 
vice  versa  ;  and  by  reason  or  theory,  affirming  mankind,  and  account- 
ing for  the  appearances  of  the  city  upon  the  wants  of  its  substantial, 
though  separately  invisible  inhabitants. 

But  IV.  the  existence  of  an  animal  spirit  has  great  historical  pro- 
bability attached  to  it.  For  the  course  of  knowledge  has  consisted, 
not  in  confirming  abstractions,  but  in  merging  them  in  some  ade- 
quate reality,  such  as  we  are  now  claiming  for  the  life  and  spirit  of 
the  brain.  The  concrete  form  of  things,  or  the  tracing  them  home, 
is  the  final  victory  of  knowledge  touching  mere  existence.  So  long 
as  life  is  an  indeterminate  phrase,  applied  without  distinction  to  the 
whole  system,  the  study  of  that  life  has  not  commenced,  for  its 
presence  has  not  been  gained;  but  when  its  proper  currents  are 
found,  and  the  mind  traverses  them,  then  the  separate  knowledge  of 
their  properties  can  begin,  but  not  sooner.  And,  moreover,  the 
triumphs  of  this  age  are  peculiarly  due  to  the  introduction  of  the 
mind  to  the  empire  of  the  fluids.  The  steam  engine  and  its  nervous 
spirit,  steam ;  the  railway  and  its  locomotive  fluid,  the  train ;  the 
wire  and  its  electric  spirit,  show  the  practical  benefits  of  the  subor- 
dination of  the  solid  to  the  fluid.  And  in  human  progress,  it  is  the 
fluid  and  the  modifiable  that  give  motion  and  impulse  to  the  other- 
wise fixed.  What  are  quickness,  conception  and  imagination,  but 
the  fluids  of  the  mind :  regard  them  at  work,  and  you  can  bring 
them  under  no  other  analogy.  They  stir  the  old,  hard  world,  and 
permeate  all  things,  and  like  nervous  fluids  are  present  in  a  moment 
where  their  mission  is,  with  the  power  of  arranging  and  quickening 
virtue  that  they  have  received  in  the  fountains  of  thought.  Indeed, 
I  see  not  that  there  is  any  known  sphere  of  things,  whose  analogies 
do  not  cry  aloud  for  the  existence  of  a  fluid  brain  governing  the 
solid,  and  like  it,  organized,  though  on  a  more  living  plan.  Thus 
until  a  nerve-spirit  be  admitted,  How  can  the  science  of  the  brain 
be  in  fraternity  with  the  other  arts  and  sciences? 


bZ  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

V.  If  this  fluid  is  quasi-\ik,  or  what  is  the  same  thing,  physical 
life,  it  may  well  be  conceived  that  the  nervous  tubes  will  close 
against  it  in  the  moment  of  dying;  as  the  dying  arteries  contract, 
and  shed  away  the  arterial  blood.  Death  has  no  hold  upon  life,  but 
its  chill  grasp  is  its  means  of  losing  it.  Hence,  microscopic  obser- 
vations upon  the  nervous  fibres  never  can  give  the  negative  to  their 
tubular  form  or  fluid  contents.  The  problem  does  not  come  within 
the  brains  of  necrology.  Moreover,  how  if  the  tubes  were  spiral, 
and  not  straight,  which  might  be  the  case  in  a  system  where  veloci- 
ties are  such,  that  distance  forms  no  element  in  the  calculation  ? 
In  that  case,  even  supposing  the  tubes  were  hollow,  they  might 
never  be  seen  as  tubes,  by  reason  of  their  insinuations  and  turnings. 
For  in  the  realms  of  mind  and  thought,  the  shortest  distance  between 
any  two  points  or  ends,  is  that  which  leads  through  all  the  means, 
no  matter  by  what  length  of  course.  The  zigzag  of  the  lightning  is 
in  the  straight  line  of  smiting. 

VI.  The  doctrine  of  a  nervous  fluid  seems  further  to  arise  out  of 
the  construction  of  the  system  from  successive  pieces,  each  higher 
and  broader  than  that  preceding  it.  For  this  ladder  takes  us  up  to 
regard  the  mind  itself  as  supremely  nervous.  Now  each  part  has 
its  centre  in  itself;  but  also  is  traversed  by  the  part  above  it,  on  its 
way  to  the  surface;  whither  all  the  pieces,  the  high  and  the  low, 
arrive  alike  immediately,  or  are  represented.  Thus  the  mind  comes 
down  through  everything  and  its  spirit  glitters  in  the  face.  And 
thus  all  the  actions  of  man — automatic,  sensual  and  animal — may 
be  shot  and  pierced  from  the  quiver  of  life,  until  they  are  nothing 
but  rational  and  spiritual  actions.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  however, 
that  the  visible  solids  terminate  with  the  brain.  If,  then,  the  mind 
has  fibres  representing  it  in  the  brain,  as  the  brain  has  fibres  repre- 
senting it  in  the  spinal  cord,  the  former  fibres  must  lie  in  the  fluids, 
for  the  solids  belong  to  the  brain  itself.  Thus,  while  the  brain  or 
organism  terminates  in  its  own  centres,  the  cortical  substances,  or 
supreme  solids,  the  mind  enters  into  these  by  a  series  of  correspond- 
ing fluid  organisms,  which  represent  the  living  or  active  portion,  as 
ihc  solids  represent  the  recipient  or  passive.  This  is  but  imagina- 
tion; yet  imagination  is  the  youthful  eye  of  science,  and  provided 
it  owns  to  its  name,  it  is  an  innocent  as  well  as  a  suggestive  power. 


THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  53 

Therefore,  we  proceed  to  imagine,  that  the  mind  broods  above  the 
brain,  as  the  cosmical  ether  sits  above  the  planetary  air,  and  further, 
that  the  mind,  or  spiritual  reservoir,  fills  all  the  interstices  of  the 
brain,  where,  however,  it  is  determined  by  suitable  fluid  envelops, 
which  accommodate,  temper  and  envelop  it,  until  it  is  brought  into 
ratio  with  the  fixed  mechanism  of  the  cerebrum.  Hence,  its  solar 
vibrations  are  felt  in  the  bodily  organism,  as  light  is  felt  on  the 
earth  through  the  splendid  shiver  of  a  medium  which  the  air  in- 
cludes between  its  parts.  And  hence,  there  are  as  many  kinds  of 
nervous  or  cerebral  spirit  as  there  are  nerves  and  brains ;  for  it  is 
the  openness  or  intervalling  of  the  latter,  that  admits  and  gives 
quality  or  fibrillation  to  the  former.  The  brain,  doubtless,  is  made 
with  an  express  view  to  this  recipiency :  the  fluids,  which  when  en- 
tered by  the  soul  become  nerve  spirits,  are  also  predetermined ;  and 
hence  there  is  the  same  ratio  again  between  the  mind  and  the  nerve 
spirit,  as  between  the  brain  and  the  spinal  cord,  in  that  the  parts  of 
both  are  alike,  but  differing  in  breadth  or  degree. 

But  indeed,  the  doctrine  of  the  nerve-spirit  forms  but  one  of 
several  problems,  which  have  experienced  the  like  treatment.  The 
reality  of  whatever  is  above  the  senses,  is  questioned  by  many,  and 
consequently  the  presence  of  the  supernal  in  the  sensual  is  denied; 
and,  if  the  supernal  be  visible,  still  it  is  degraded  by  some  ordinary 
name,  and  the  spirit  and  message  which  it  carries  are  sensualized 
and  set  aside.  The  thing  is  killed  by  skepticism,  and  then  its  spirit 
is  easily  called  serum.  It  is  so  with  Revelation.  A  divine  mind 
there  may  be,  but  then  man,  say  some,  is  solid  at  the  top,  and  lets 
God  in  by  a  self-vibration :  there  is  no  open  fibre  between  Him  and 
man.  We,  however,  affirm  a  nerve  spirit  of  the  human  race,  which 
is  not  man's,  but  God's  in  man — a  genuine  influx,  a  word,  a  revela- 
tion. It  is  just  as  visible  as  other  books,  though  often  it  is  not 
known  what  it  is,  because  the  mind  is  not  known  with  which  it  com- 
municates, nor  consequently  the  peculiar  animation  of  the  book. 
We  see  on  this  mighty  scale,  what  is  the  use  of  a  nerve  spirit, 
namely,  to  be  immediately  present  with  the  directing  mind  through- 
out the  organism;  to  speak  in  messages  unwarped  by  the  finite 
faculties;  to  be  the  First  and  the  Last,  instead  of  "  sitting  above  the 
creation,  and  seeing  it  go."     Were  it  otherwise,  the  government  of 


54  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

the  world  would  be  virtually  committed  to  man's  reason,  which 
would  exclude  that  of  God;  for  man  would  have  no  chart  but  his 
own  faculties.  And  so,  were  the  brain  a  solid,  and  shut  at  top,  the 
government  of  the  body  must  depend  upon  it,  and  not  upon  the 
soul,  or  only  upon  the  soul,  in  so  far  as  the  brain  chose  to  coincide 
with  its  messages.  Government  is  incompatible  with  such  an  idea. 
But  on  the  other  showing,  the  brain  cannot  exclude  the  next  higher 
series,  which  permeates  it  in  its  own  right,  and  exercises  a  provi- 
dential and  healing  virtue  upon  what  is  so  apt  to  go  wrong  of  itself. 
The  truth,  however,  is,  that  the  doctrine  we  are  combating,  is  not  in 
the  sphere  of  the  nervous  or  open  system  at  all :  it  belongs  to  the 
muscular  department  of  truth,  or  that  which  has  both  ends  closed, 
and  is  a  solid  body.  Its  spiritual  correspondent  is  "  earnestness," 
spasmodic  vigor,  upon  which  so  many  and  such  famous  men  rely  for 
the  salvations  of  the  time.  We  might  collect  other  problems,  be- 
sides that  of  the  presence  of  the  divine  light  in  the  world  or  Reve- 
lation ;  and  that  of  the  presence  of  the  soul  in  the  body,  or  spiritual 
existence,  to  show  that  the  doctrine  of  the  animal  spirits  suffer  in 
the  company  of  great  truths;  but  enough  has  been  said  to  show  that 
deism  has  dependencies  everywhere;  and  that  besides  the  vast  irre- 
ligion  of  excluding  God  from  the  universe,  there  is  a  series  of  lesser 
impieties  and  disloyalties  of  a  similar  kind,  which  rob  the  body  of 
the  soul,  clip  the  world  close  to  the  limits  of  air,  make  man  and 
nature  truth-tight,  and  reduce  all  things  to  petty  selves,  which  can 
choose  whether  they  will  have  a  God  above  them,  a  world  around 
them,  and  a  soul  within  them,  or  the  contrary. 

We  postulate,  then,  that  everything,  according  to  its  openness  to 
the  sphere  above  it,  has  a  spirit,  or  a  quasi-spirit;  and  when  the 
organ  is  so  constructed  for  opening  as  the  brains — whose  first  great 
faculty  is  openness — when  it  can  take  in  so  much,  the  capacious  in- 
flux or  gift  naturally  takes  the  form  of  a  nerve  spirit,  which  is  thence- 
forth the  tutelar  genius  of  the  system.  Further,  that  everything, 
whether  a  brain  or  a  science,  which  is  so  roofed  over  that  nothing 
but  itself  can  come  into  it — so  thick-skulled  and  self-opinionated — 
is  dead  at  the  top,  however  it  may  work  reflexly  or  spasmodically, 
according  to  the  exigencies  of  the  lower  life. 

So  much  for  the   spirit  within  the  brain.     There  is  a  spirit  be- 


FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  55 

yond  it,  of  which  wc  do  not  treat  in  this  place.  Only  we  remark 
that  the  spirit  within  is  the  physiological  window  to  the  spirit  be- 
yond, and  that  they  who  do  not  look  through  it,  cannot  admit  the 
soul  of  man  as  having  any  ratio  with  the  sciences  of  the  body. 
Certainly,  the  soul  is  not  their  object;  but  woe  to  them  if  it  have 
not  its  witness  within  their  field.  Even  granting  what  we  have  said, 
the  nerve  spirit  will  be  only  on  a  level  with  the  other  fluids,  unless 
it  be  interpreted  by  those  higher  powers  which  it  serves.  But  what 
its  function  is  can  be  told  analogically,  but  not,  as  yet,  otherwise. 
Thus,  we  may  say  that  it  exercises  quasi-mind  and  influence  in  every 
part  of  the  frame :  that  it  is  an  atomic  intellect  everywhere,  capable 
of  representing  tjie  state  of  the  body,  and  a  will,  capable  of  setting 
the  organism  in  imitative  movement  according  to  its  decisions  and 
forms.  By  it  alone  can  we  account  for  the  unity  and  coherence  of 
the  system.  For  every  point  of  it  is  a  sense  or  intelligence  that 
shows  the  frame  a  model  that  commands  instant  imitation.  And 
thus  it  may  be  likened  to  the  truths  of  society,  which  command 
obedience  by  their  bare  showing,  according  to  the  health  of  the 
social  frame.  Let  it  be  borne  in  mind,  however,  that  the  nerve 
spirit  is  different  according  to  the  divisions  of  the  nervous  system, 
and  according  to  the  nerves  of  every  organ,  and  indeed,  every  parti- 
cle, because  each  is  open  to  the  wisdom  that  it  needs.  Thus,  in  the 
nervous  system  proper,  it  is  mind  and  will :  in  the  liver,  again,  it  is 
the  mirror  and  model  of  the  hepatic  truths  and  operations.  And 
so  of  the  other  organs.  Dropped  from  above  into  their  lives,  re- 
vealed to  their  blood  and  races,  it  sets  them  in  the  fermentation  and 
discussion  of  their  problems,  and  on  the  Veritas  prevaleh it  principle, 
health  cannot  fail  to  obey  it.  It  is  the  posture-master  of  the  solids, 
and  the  charioteer  of  the  fluids.  We  see,  then,  how  full  the  body  is 
of  eyes — how  instinct  with  spirit-like  forces,  and  by  the  analogies 
of  mental  and  social  life,  how  irresistible  are  the  causes  of  harmony, 
design,  and  co-operation  in  the  bodily  fabric.  But  were  there  not 
such  a  spirit,  there  would  be  no  reason,  but  an  immediate  dictate  of 
God's  will,  for  the  stupendous  system  which  the  human  machine 
discloses;  that  is  to  say,  there  would  be  no  wisdom  in  the  body, 
answering  to  that  supreme  wisdom  which  exists  above  it. 

And  here,  to  assist  our  conceptions,  let  us  revert  to  the  current 


50  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

views  of  the  solid  pieces  of  the  nervous  system.  These,  as  we  have 
shown  before,  are  all  of  them  of  spiritual  machinery;  in  other  words, 
they  have  the  power  of  dramatizing  mental  functions.  Even  the 
spinal  cord  acts  as  if  it  were  a  sensible  animal,  guiding  the  fingers, 
for  example,  to  the  seats  of  pain  by  its  automatic  endowments. 
How  much  more  must  the  supreme  fluid,  whose  essence  is  motion 
and  plastic  virtue,  be  capable  of  dramatizing  or  representing  the 
powers  of  the  mind  and  soul,  and  their  ever-varying  relations  to  the 
microcosm.  A  fortiori,  it  will  act  like  wisdom  and  like  will  every- 
where, when  its  mere  channels,  wherever  they  extend,  have  these 
quasi-living  properties.  It  is  here  to  be  remarked,  that  we  are  in 
the  strictest  keeping  with  experience ;  that  we  are  simply  postulat- 
ing for  the  fluid  brain  the  same  thing,  though  in  the  fluid  degree, 
which  physiology  claims  already  for  the  solid  brain.  But  there  is 
this  difference,  that  the  solid  brain,  or  the  nerves,  are  of  course  li- 
mited to  the  nervous  system,  whereas  the  fluid  brain,  or  the  nerve 
spirit,  does  not  end  with  these  conduits;  but  when  it  is  shed  from 
the  fingers'  ends,  heart's  ends  and  viscus'  ends  of  the  nerves,  it  can 
make  use  of  every  other  structure  as  its  vehicle,  and  thus  import 
the  drama  of  life,  in  all  its  degrees,  into  the  flesh  and  entrails  of  the 
universal  body.  Agreeably  to  a  common  fact,  that  where  a  form 
ceases,  its  essence,  if  of  true  virtue,  still  passes  on,  and  applies  itself 
to  utilities  that  it  could  not  execute  when  confined  to  its  bodily 
sheath. 

We  may  perchance  be  accused  of  materialism  for  demanding  such 
a  physical  wisdom.  So  an  insect  possessing  only  a  spinal  cord 
might  accuse  of  materialism  a  being  possessing  the  sensual  brain, 
because  the  latter  exhibited  this  as  still  a  nervous  system;  and  a 
creature  terminated  by  the  sensual  brain  might  reproach  materialism 
against  a  being  who  carried  the  nervous  firmaments  one  step  higher 
in  the  cerebral  hemispheres,  because  those  hemispheres  were  still 
nervous  system.  The  insect  conception  of  sense  (if  the  phrase  can 
be  pardoned)  is  doubtless  null;  and  could  the  creature  evolve  it,  the 
nullity  would  appear  in  the  want  of  body  and  structure,  in  the  im- 
pression that  pure  spirit  or  abstraction  comes  on  at  the  top  of  the 
spinal  column.  The  brain,  however,  is  a  spirit  pure  enough  to  the 
spinal  column.     And  so  the  mind,  organic  and  in  ratio  with  the  rest 


FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  57 

though  it  be,  is,  nevertheless,  the  pure  spirit  of  the  human  brain. 
The  materialism  lies  with  those  who  make  the  brain  solid,  the  skull 
thick,  and  the  mind  an  abstraction. 

VII.  In  conclusion,  we  may  be  allowed  to  say  that  the  doctrine 
of  a  nerve  spirit  is  no  new  creed,  nor  ever  was  unorthodox  until 
now.  The  greatest  names  in  physiology  are  its  adherents.  But 
neither  did  these  men  see  the  tubes  or  the  fluid,  such  as  we  have 
conceived  it,  in  the  dead  subject :  a  fact  which,  as  Haller  says, 
"  shows  the  weakness  of  the  senses,  but  has  no  validity  against 
the  existence  of  a  juice  or  spirit  in  the  nerves."  This  reason  had 
its  proper  effect  with  the  great  anatomists  of  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries :  it  showed  them  the  weakness  of  their  senses, 
and  stimulated  them  the  more  to  use  their  understandings.  They 
were  the  original  geniuses  who  laid  the  foundation  of  a  general 
knowledge  of  anatomy  that  will  not  pass  away,  but  to  which'  we 
must  recur  when  we  desire  to  refresh  our  minds  with  the  first  vivid 
impressions  that  the  wonders  of  the  body  created  upon  the  finest 
intellects  that  ever  studied  organization.  Would  it  were  in  our 
power  to  bring  before  the  reader  the  characteristics  of  these  brave 
pioneers  of  anatomical  knowledge.  Would  we  could  reintroduce 
him  to  the  venerable  Eustachius  j  to  Malpighi,  the  father  of  vis- 
ceral anatomy;  to  Ruysch  and  Morgagni,  the  purifiers  of  the  ana- 
tomy of  the  schools  j  to  Leeuwenhoek,  who  first  seized  the  micro- 
scope as  an  exclusive  field,  and  devoted  himself  to  it  for  fifty  years 
with  an  eagerness  which  has  not  been  surpassed;  to  Vieussens, 
Lancisi  and  Baglivi,  eminent  alike  for  systematic  knowledge  and 
philosophical  genius ;  to  Bartholin,  Verheyen,  Heister  and  Wins- 
low,  whose  methodical  text-books  kept  their  ground  in  the  Euro- 
pean schools  for  more  than  a  hundred  years,  and  who  supplied  their 
successors  with  much  of  both  the  matter  and  the  form  that  exists 
in  the  manuals  now  in  use ;  to  Boerhaave,  "  the  common  preceptor 
of  Europe"  in  the  last  century,  and  the  consulting  physician  of  the 
world,  who  gathered  up  the  experience  and  deductions  of  ages  in 
anatomy  and  physiology,  and  gave  it  a  new  and  compact  form  in  that 
wonderful  little  book,  the  Institutiones  Medicce :  also  to  Boerhaave's 
pupil,  Haller,  who  stands  as  a  mountain  between  the  present  and  the 
past,  and  reflects  from  his  summit  the  departed  learning  of  seventeen 


58  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

centuries.  But  their  monuments  are  the  living  parts  of  their  science. 
And  we  must  be  content  with  alleging,  that  these  men,  with  no  ex- 
ception, believed  in  the  animal  spirits,  and  the  tubular  construction 
of  the  nerves;  which,  as  the  illustrious  Glisson,  our  countryman, 
remarks,  was  in  his  time  "  accredited  by  nearly  all  physicians;  and 
by  all  philosophers." 

We  now  therefore  assume  that  the  nerves  are  tubes,  and  that 
there  is  a  special  fluid,  cerebral,  spinal,  sympathetic,  i.  e.,  following 
in  its  degrees  and  divisions  the  solid  pieces  of  its  nervous  frame  : 
and  the  question  occurs,  Where  is  this  fluid  engendered?  We 
reply,  that  its  matrix  everywhere  is  the  cineritious  substance; 
that  as  the  vehicle  of  what  comes  down  from  above,  it  begins  every- 
where with  the  beginning  of  the  bodily  order,  which  lies  in  the 
cineritious  spheres.  The  latter  show  luxuriant  provision  for  the 
purpose  in  the  arterial  meshes  which  supply  them.  But  to  pursue 
this  subject  would  require  a  treatise  on  the  life  of  the  blood.  We 
shall,  however,  recur  to  it  in  the  sequel. 

But  another  question  presents  itself — Is  there  a  circulation  of  this 
living  fluid?  Do  its  centres  impel  it,  as  the  heart  propels  the  blood? 
Is  there  a  cerebral  force  or  a  motion  of  the  nervous  system  ?  Or  is 
the  brain,  besides  being  solid  and  exclusive,  also  stationary  and 
paralytic?  Or  on  the  other  hand,  if  there  be  any  natural  force  in 
brains,  what  is  it? 

First  for  the  facts.  Two  motions  are  already  admitted  to  have 
place  in  the  head,  one  corresponding  to  the  beating  of  the  arte- 
ries or  heart;  the  other,  to  the  breathing  of  the  lungs.  By  laying 
the  fingers  upon  the  open  fontanelle  of  a  young  infant,  the  reader 
will  feel  the  first-named  motion.  It  is  the  stroke  of  the  heart  com- 
municated to  the  arteries  of  the  dura  mater.  This  is  no  cerebral 
force,  or  proper  motion  of  the  brain.  As  for  the  second  or  lung 
movement,  it  occurs  as  follows.  When  the  lungs  expand  to  draw 
in  the  air,  a  tendency  to  vacuum  is  created  in  the  chest,  which 
causes  the  fluids  all  over  the  body  to  rush  or  to  incline  thither,  to 
fill  the  threatened  void.  In  short  the  lungs,  besides  breathing  in  the 
air,  quaff"  down  the  venous  blood  from  the  brain,  and  suck  up  that 
from  the  body.  The  consequence  is,  that  in  inspiration  the  skull  is 
more   empty   of  blood   than    at   other   times.     Hence   when  the 


CIRCULATION  OF  THE  NERVE  SPIRIT.  59 

brain  is  exposed,  it  is  seen  to  subside  during  inspiration.  This  is 
the  second  movement  observed,  or  the  effect  upon  the  brain  of  the 
respiratory  pulse.  But  neither  is  this  a  cerebral  force,  but  a  phy- 
sical subsidence,  just  as  the  corresponding  rise  is  merely  physi- 
cal, and  results  from  the  act  of  expiration,  which  retarding  the  re- 
turn of  blood  to  the  chest,  forces  up  the  brain  upon  this  fluid 
cushion.  This,  however,  is  to  be  noticed,  that  when  the  blood 
leaves  the  skull  during  inspiration,  it  creates  a  vacant  space  which 
has  a  function,  or  which  is  not  vacant  in  point  of  use  :  in  short,  it 
leaves  room  for  the  brain  to  expand.  And  if  its  real  expansion  be 
less  in  volume  than  its  apparent  subsidence,  then  the  brain  may  be 
automatically  rising  at  the  moment  when  it  is  physically  falling, 
in  which  case  the  latter  movement  will  mask  the  former.  When 
the  lungs  expand,  then,  there  is  room  for  the  brain  also  to  expand, 
and  when  the  lungs  contract,  there  is  a  physical  reason  why  the 
brain  also  must  contract. 

"We  do  not  know  that  experience  has  gone  further  hitherto  than 
to  show  the  possibility  of  the  movement  of  the  brain,  in  showing 
that  it  has  room  or  liberty  to  move.  And  indeed,  if  we  consider  the 
problem,  we  shall  perhaps  find  reason  to  think  that  this  motion,  like 
the  motions  of  other  bodies  from  which  we  cannot  separate  ourselves, 
but  with  which  we  ourselves  move,  must  come  as  a  theory  whose 
main  case  will  lie  in  explaining  all  the  facts. 

Yet  further  as  to  the  possibility  of  the  movement,  one  of  the 
most  important  truths  of  physiology  lies  in  the  insulation  of  the 
different  systems  that  make  up  the  body.  In  point  of  function,  indeed, 
we  have  seen  that  the  nervous  system  itself  consists  of  individual 
pieces,  which  can  act  either  separately  or  in  combination.  But  in 
structure  the  whole  nervous  system  is  isolated  from  the  rest  of  the 
body,  though  plunged  or  let  down  into  it  as  into  a  well  of  flesh. 
The  nerves  end  in  loops  or  otherwise,  but  are  not  solidly  continuous 
with  the  other  tissues.  In  short,  the  nervous  body  floats  in  the 
fleshly  body  as  the  central  yelk  of  the  microcosm.  We  may  liken 
it  to  a  sword  of  lightning  in  an  elastic  scabbard,  which  scabbard  is 
perpetually  elongating  and  gathering  itself  up,  but  is  always  full  of 
the  subtle  and  separate  fire.  Movement  is  compatible  with  this  state, 
nay,  is  perpetually  stimulated  by  it  where  the  whole  subject  is  mov- 


60  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

ing ;  just  as  the  non-continuity  of  the  planets  with  each  other,  and 
the  interstice  between  these  cosmical  atoms,  allows  and  necessitates 
their  courses  and  revolutions.  It  used  to  be  thought  that  nerve 
joined  and  became  continuous  with  muscle  and  vessel, in  which  case 
thorough  motion  of  the  nervous  system  would  not  have  been  possible. 
We  now  find  that  it  only  rests  upon  these  lower  parts,  of  course 
with  an  interval,  which  allows  of  thorough  or  loco-motion ;  and  we 
know,  therefore,  that  thanks  to  the  breathing  movements,  the 
nerve  animal  requires  to  plant  its  foot  afresh  with  every  inspiration, 
or  it  would  slip  down,  and  to  raise  it  up  again  with  each  expiration, 
or  the  body  would  shock  it  in  its  ascent. 

If  the  office  of  the  brain  lies  in  the  distribution  of  the  cerebral 
fluids,  then  the  orderly  administration  of  these  requires  a  regular 
motion,  or  in  other  words,  a  rhythmical  action.  The  heart  and  the 
lungs  are  evidences  of  this  in  the  lower  compartment.  Their  action 
is  not  an  incorporeal  vibration  but  a  measured  expansion  and  con- 
traction. The  blood  cannot  run  to  its  destinations  without  the  phy- 
sical heart,  nor  the  nerve  spirit  gain  its  ends  without  a  propulsive 
power  in  the  brain  and  the  other  centres.  And  more  than  in  the 
case  of  the  other  organs  must  this  motion  belong  to  the  brain  itself, 
or  be  automatic,  or  the  supreme  organ  would  have  no  function  of 
its  own.  It  cannot,  then,  be  derived  from  the  heart  or  the  lungs, 
as  we  said  before,  although  no  doubt  these  organs,  and  all  the  rest, 
are  measured  by  its  liberties,  and  concur  to  make  its  play  and  play- 
ground secure. 

In  the  body,  moreover,  we  find  that  stated  motion  is  a  condition 
and  a  sign  of  life.  Does  he  breathe?  or  expand  and  contract,  is  sy- 
nonymous with,  Does  he  live  ?  Now,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to 
show  in  the  next  chapter,  the  universal  movement  of  the  body  pro- 
duced by  the  lungs,  is  the  condition  of  all  particular  movements, 
muscular  and  visceral.  For  a  body  already  in  constant  motion  is 
easily  guided  about,  deflected  and  managed  for  particular  motions; 
but  a  body  at  rest  absorbs  a  large  amount  of  force  before  it  can  be 
moved.  Thus  if  the  whole  body  were  not  a  perpetually-moving, 
breathing  or  living  thing,  there  would  lie  so  much  dead  weight  on 
the  feet  of  every  action,  and  life  would  be  clogged  by  matter.  But 
as  it  is,  the  incarnate  iron  is  hot  for  the  strokes  of  the  volitions. 


THE  MOTION  OF  THE  BRAIN.  61 

Nothing  can  be  more  familiar  than  this,  that  motion  is  easy,  and 
rest  uneasy,  to  those  who  are  already  on  the  move.  Now  we  may 
reason  by  a  great  syllogism  from  the  man  to  the  body,  from  the  body 
to  the  lungs,  and  from  the  lungs  to  the  brain :  nay,  and  also  from 
the  brain  to  the  mind.  For  example,  if  the  brain  were  stationary, 
no  thought  could  enter  it  without  lifting  it  first :  there  would  be  no 
preparedness  for  thought,  which  is  essential  motion.  Whereas,  by 
a  constant  rhythm  taking  place  in  the  whole  mass,  the  mind  requires 
to  create  no  motion,  but  simply  to  act  as  a  modifying,  directing,  or 
exemplary  power,  in  order  to  produce  all  or  any  motions  as  states  or 
details  of  the  general  swell.  Thus,  the  rapid  admission  of  thoughts 
requires  a  moving  or  active  brain,  just  as  does  the  distribution  of  the 
nerve  spirit,  which  is  a  river  of  bodily  thoughts. 

It  is  indeed  admitted  that  the  brain  is  an  active  organ,  so  for  as 
it  undergoes  the  fleeting  states  of  thought.  These  are  the  modifica- 
tions of  its  activity,  the  ripples  of  consciousness.  But  what  we  are 
contending  for  is  nothing  less  than  a  tidal  cerebral  sea.  For  as  the 
thoughts,  emotions  and  bodily  actions  fall  upon  the  lungs,  and  pro- 
duce the  varieties  of  the  breathing,  because  the  breathing  itself  is 
there  first  as  an  impressible  atmosphere,  so  do  the  thoughts  and 
volitions  produce  the  varieties  of  the  animation  upon  the  basis  of 
an  already-moving  or  animating  brain.  The  temporary  waves  of 
thought,  are  but  the  surface  which  comes  into  our  light :  there  is  a 
deeper  heaving  besides,  organic  as  the  body,  which  has  its  own  cur- 
rents and  shores,  and  is  constant  like  nature,  obeying  the  progress 
not  of  the  moment,  but  of  the  lifetime.  Its  spirits  are  not  transi- 
tory like  ours,  but  night  and  day  they  do  not  sleep  until  death  over- 
takes them. 

The  argument  we  are  discussing  is,  however,  theoretical;  a  con- 
dition which  is  common  to  the  truths  of  the  exact  sciences.  The 
solution  of  the  problem  in  this  light  will  depend  upon  whether  the 
brain  or  the  mind  is  accepted  as  the  central  truth.  If  the  mind  be 
taken  as  the  fixed  point,  the  principles  of  thought  will  have  their 
just  power,  and  the  brain  will  be  seen  to  revolve  around  the  mind, 
and  by  its  revolutions,  or  expansions  and  contractions,  by  its  mov- 
ing up  to,  or  away  from,  the  mind,  to  produce  the  times  and  seasons, 
the  warmth  and  cold,  of  human  thought  and  will;  and  as  the  variety 
6 


62  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

of  states  will  in  this  case  depend  upon  the  brain,  and  the  brain  is  a 
physical  organ,  the  motion  will  not  be  a  mental  or  ideal,  but  a  phy- 
sical motion.  In  other  words,  if  the  brain  is  physical  and  not  mental, 
then  what  seem  to  us  to  be  mental  motions  in  the  brain  are  really 
physical  motions ;  and  in  this  case  an  open  mind  signifies  an  open 
brain,  an  active  mind  a  moving  brain;  and  human  language,  or  the 
voice  of  common  sense,  contributes  abundantly  to  the  illustration  of 
the  organ.  For  the  predicates  of  mind  can  then  be  assigned  in  a 
bodily,  but  not  in  a  purely  mental  sense  to  the  brain.  If,  however, 
the  mind  be  regarded,  as  by  the  materialists  or  cerebral  Ptolemaics, 
as  the  meteor  and  wandering  lamp  of  the  brain,  then  a  mental,  or 
in  other  words  an  inexplicable  influence  or  movement  will  account 
for  or  rather  accompany  the  cerebral  states.  But  for  ourselves  we 
cannot  think  of  the  mind  as  an  ignks  fatuus  in  the  swamps  of  the 
cerebrum,  but  as  a  distinct  and  superior  organ,  which  has  the  cere- 
brum and  nervous  system  between  it  and  the  body.  But  now  if  the 
brain  has  thought  movements,  there  must  not  only  be  a  law  of  suc- 
cession in  these,  a  beginning,  a  middle  and  an  end  of  each;  in  other 
words,  an  expansion  and  contraction ;  but  also,  as  we  showed  before, 
a  ground  swell  of  motion  on  which  they  depend,  and  which  if  it  were 
not  given  by  nature,  no  thought  could  lift  the  sluggish  mass  in  time 
enough  to  give  a  thought-like  action. 

But  after  all,  the  question  of  motion  is  subordinate  to  the  question 
of  what  the  motion  is  ?  To  show  by  rational  arguments  that  the 
planets  move,  without  demonstrating  their  courses,  would  leave  the 
theory  not  only  short,  but  curtailed  of  its  strongest  proofs.  And  to 
raise  the  problem  of  the  cerebral  motion  without  showing  its  times 
and  rules,  would  be  to  rest  in  an  embryo  law,  and  to  fail  of  the  sup- 
port which  the  body  itself  ought  to  proffer  of  so  important  a  truth; 
if  a  truth  it  indeed  be. 

In  turning  to  this  new  aspect  of  the  question,  we  find  in  the  body 
that  there  are  already  two  movements,  which  we  will  designate  the 
systemic  and  the  sub-systemic;  the  movement  of  the  respiration  is  the 
systemic,  that  of  the  pulse  the  sub-systemic.  The  breathing  of  the 
lungs  is  the  largest  revolution  of  organic  life  that  the  body  executes ; 
the  beating  of  the  heart  is  but  a  satellitial  motion  freely  included 
within  the  former.     And  if  organic  life  or  motion  be  concentric,  a 


THE  MOTION  OF  THE  BRAIN.  •         63 

strong  presumption  already  arises,  that  the  animations  of  the  brain, 
according  to  the  statement  of  Swedenborg,  are  coincident  with  the 
respirations  of  the  lungs.  Moreover  we  have  already  seen,  that 
when  the  lungs  inspire,  the  brain  has  room  and  invitation  to  expand, 
and  that  when  they  expire,  it  receives  an  admonition  and  pressure 
to  contract.  If  the  brain  be  impressible  at  all,  and  if  its  motion  be 
physical,  it  can  hardly  fail  to  comply  with  these  opportune  times. 

But  again  the  motion  of  the  brain  is,  or  may  be,  voluntary,  and 
the  volitions  as  we  know  can  play  also  upon  the  respiration.  Nay 
every  muscular  movement  however  eccentric,  is  based  upon  the  fixity 
of  the  respiration  as  a  central  stoma.  Whence  voluntary  breathing 
becomes  analogous  to  willing,  and  we  are  said  to  breathe  the  actions 
which  we  strongly  intend.  This  points,  in  the  next  term  of  the 
reasoning,  to  the  conclusion  that  animation,  or  the  common  func- 
tion of  the  brain,  is  analogous  to  common  breathing.  For  the  argu- 
ment stands  thus — the  mind  of  the  brain,  in  falling  upon  the  lungs, 
controls  their  states,  and  makes  them  voluntary ;  and  in  descending 
into  the  muscles,  it  always  enters  the  lungs  at  the  same  time,  rais- 
ing up  in  the  breath  a  central  air  or  tendency,  corresponding  to  the 
limbed  tendency  in  the  muscles.  The  motion  of  the  mind  of  the 
brain,  therefore,  is  voluntary,  and  the  breathing  can  be  voluntary; 
and  if  the  brain  and  the  lungs  coincide  in  their  extraordinary  mo- 
tions, is  it  not  feasible  that  they  coincide  in  their  ordinary  motions  ? 
This  is  the  more  conclusive  and  exclusive,  inasmuch  as  there  is  no 
other  viscus  but  the  lungs  manifesting  a  peculiar  motion,  upon  which 
thought  and  will  play.  Now  these  are,  physically  speaking,  the 
brain  playing  upon  the  lungs,  or  in  other  words,  the  brain  moving 
to  move  the  lungs. 

But  secondly,  we  affirm,  that  the  correspondence  is  not  merely 
general,  but  precise.  It  will  be  remembered  that  we  are  not  now 
arguing  the  question  of  the  motion  of  the  brain,  which  we  consider 
for  the  present  established  j  but  the  rhythm  which  the  motion  follows. 
And  we  proceed  to  remark  that  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  its  coin- 
cidence with  breathing.  The  cerebral  motion,  the  movement  of  the 
mind  of.  the  brain,  is  represented  in  the  movements  of  the  lungs. 
We  all  infer  the  manner  in  which  a  man's  brains  are  moving,  from 
the  way  in  which  we  see  his  lungs  moving.     If  we  see  deep  breath- 


64  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

ing  going  on  during  consciousness,  we  know  that  it  means  profound 
cogitation;  slow  breathing  concurs  with  deliberation,  meditation, 
&c.  And  so  on  through  a  thousand  states  of  thought  and  emotion, 
in  which  we  reason  instinctively  on  the  principle  of  a  correspondence 
between  the  motions  of  the  brains  and  lungs.  And  diseases  aug- 
ment these  phenomena.  Stertorous  breath  signifies  an  oppressed 
brain ;  hurried  breath  in  fevers,  a  hurried  state  of  mind.  And  so 
forth.  We  take  no  similar  indications  from  the  heart,  or  any  other 
organ  but  the  lungs,  which  represent  all  visceral  locomotion,  as  the 
muscles  represent  the  locomotion  of  the  outward  body.  The  heart, 
indeed,  is  felt  by  its  owner  to  have  a  correspondence  with  the  emo- 
tions particularly,  but  it  is  not  influenced  perceptibly  by  the  will  or 
the  understanding. 

In  the  chest  the  condition  of  the  nervous  system  confirms  what 
we  are  advocating.  For  the  great  nerves  run  through  a  space 
governed  by  the  pumping  of  the  lungs,  and  their  external  coats,  of 
necessity,  are  drawn  outwards  when  we  inspire  the  air,  and  are 
pressed  inwards  when  expiration  occurs.  So  also  in  the  spinal  cord. 
As  these  parts  are  continuous  with  the  brain,  the  effect  also  is  con- 
tinuous ;  i.  e.,  the  brain  is  subject  to  the  reciprocal  invitations  and 
pressures  of  the  lungs.  The  nervous  motion  is,  notwithstanding, 
automatic ;  and  if  its  expansion  be  invited,  or  its  contraction  pro- 
moted, it  is  only  that  these  happen  as  the  true  circumstances  of  the 
freedom  of  the  brain. 

To  carry  the  thread  into  another  sphere,  but  one  which  is  in- 
cluded in  our  plan,  would  it  not  seem  that  one  of  the  first  deside- 
rata in  brains  is  movement,  and  in  all  further  progress,  a  history  of 
the  movements  of  brains  ?  not  only  a  history  of  fitful,  but  of  organic 
and  providential  thought.  In  the  realm  of  science  this  translation 
of  our  position  is  indispensable ;  the  pistons  of  aspiration  and  prac- 
tice go  up  and  down,  the  brain  opens  for  life,  and  opens  the  body 
for  work,  as  truth  after  truth  is  brought  in  and  converted  for  the 
moving  intelligence  of  man.  In  the  sphere  of  conception  and  phi- 
losophy the  same  strokes  of  the  mental  engine  are  perceived;  and 
the  more  we  contemplate  them  from  the  point  of  a  Providence  or  a 
plan,  the  more  regular  they  seem;  the  more  rhythmical  thought  is 
found  to  be;  the  more  its  elements  are  measured;  and  the  more  the 


THE  MOTION  OF  THE  BRAIN.  65 

stirrings  of  the  great  brain  concur  with  the  tune  of  the  stars,  which 
measure  the  ages  in  their  vortical  tread.  In  fact  the  idea  of  a  plan 
or  a  relative  Providence,  cannot  subsist,  without  insinuating  to  us 
the  oneness  of  all  the  motions  of  the  brain,  and  their  combination 
into  a  rhyme  coordinate  with  the  poetry  of  every  universal  law. 
Thus  to  look  at  them  from  above  and  beyond  the  organ,  shows  them 
all  as  one  motion,  coincident  with  the  wants  and  aspirations,  or  in 
other  words,  with  the  breathings  of  their  subject,  man.  And  so 
again  the  outward  and  inward  wants,  the  thoughts  and  the  breaths, 
are  married  to  each  other.  In  isolated  thoughts  we  cannot  recog- 
nize so  much;  but  the  thought  of  epochs  suggests  a  fate  of  thought, 
a  movement  involuntary  as  the  respiration  of  sleep,  in  which  the 
parts  succeed  each  other  as  breaths,  though  full  of  the  special  will 
and  intellect  which  are  the  life  of  the  brain  and  the  race. 

For  the  last  part  of  the  subject,  or  the  function  of  a  brain  moving 
or  animating  in  this  wise,  it  will  lie  in  the  distribution  of  the  nerve 
life  according  to  the  principles  and  forces  of  the  soul,  and  in  the 
mind,  of  the  understanding  and  will,  considered  both  as  powers  and 
organs.  If  the  fibres  and  nerves  are  the  roads  of  life,  and  if  the 
globular  heads  of  the  nerves  are  its  stations  and  reservoirs,  then  the 
expansion  and  contraction  of  these  in  the  times  of  the  breathing, 
amounts  to  the  constant  injection  of  life  into  every  portion  of  the 
body,  at  the  moments  when  the  body  itself  gasps  or  opens  or  wants 
to  receive  them.  And  this  takes  place  in  successive  moments.  Thus 
organic  thought  and  will  are  present  everywhere  with  a  breathing 
or  animating  motion  :  a  stimulus  superior  to  nutrition  is  poured  into 
the  frame;  and  all  this,  with  no  thought  on  our  parts.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  during  our  intervals,  and  from  our  states,  of  conscious- 
ness, the  distribution  of  the  cerebral  fluid  is  varied,  just  as  the  same 
consciousness  varies  the  supply  of  air,  or  the  evenness  of  the  pul- 
monary respirations.  And  by  the  coincidence  or  synchronism  of  the 
latter  with  the  brain-movements,  the  unity  of  life  is  maintained :  the 
lungs  dilate  the  frame  to  receive,  while  the  nerves  dilate  to  give. 
Thus  the  respirations  of  the  brains  and  lungs  are  the  beginning  and 
end  of  the  animal  system,  which  therefore  is  poised  in  freedom 
like  the  planet,  not  supported  upon  a  tortoise  of  dead  matter,  but 
swimming  in  double  tides  of  motion. 

6* 


G6  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

The  quantity,  colors  and  kinds  of  the  animal  spirit  thus  inflowing, 
measuring  what  it  is  by  what  it  does,  are  greater  than  those  of  all 
the  other  fluids;  for  it  not  only  fills  the  brain  and  nerves,  but  occu- 
pies the  interstices  and  the  posts  of  difficulty  throughout  the  body. 
The  good  things  which  seem  to  be  so  scarce  that  they  are  almost 
invisible,  are  yet  at  the  last  the  only  things — are  all  in  all ;  and 
this  which  is  the  least  and  most  hidden  element,  is  in  its  volume 
necessarily  the  greatest,  and  the  all-embracing.  Whatever  is  more 
than  gravity  and  rest  comes  forth  from  its  active  lightness.  It  is 
the  life  of  the  blood;  the  strength  of  the  arm,  the  fire  of  the  eye, 
and  the  bloom  of  the  skin.  Each  intellectual  city,  each  convolu- 
tion of  the  brain,  nay  every  spherule,  sends  forth  its  characteristic 
emissaries,  possessing  the  body  with  the  varied  spirits  of  the  head. 
Dryads  and  naiads,  muses  and  furies,  gods,  goddesses,  and  heroes  in 
endless  populations,  throng  the  columns  of  this  old  pantheon,  whose 
last  mythology  is  yet  to  come.  The  starry  dance,  the  music  of  the 
spheres,  the  astrologic  influences,  the  experiences  of  the  superna- 
tural, are  but  aims  to  express  the  perceptions  and  properties  of  this 
immortal  nature  which  lives  on  the  seeds  of  the  sun.  By  this  liquid 
flesh  it  is  that  the  soul  sees  its  face  in  the  rushing  river  of  creations, 
and  feels  the  issuing  universe,  and  the  finest  tremble  of  the  stars. 
In  this  wisest  vest  of  nature,  it  sits  at  the  feast  of  nature's  wisdom. 
This  is  the  panic  element  of  man  in  unison  with  the  panic  of  the 
world.  Could  we  see  an  apparition  of  the  nervous  spirit,  waving 
and  sweeping  with  luminous  shoots  into  the  curves  of  the  body,  we 
should  behold  a  form  complete  in  its  details;  a  design  exceeding  the 
mortal  building;  solid  as  flesh  to  the  eye  of  the  mind;  perpetually 
springing  into  life;  yet  though  plastic,  stable  to  its  ends,  and  quicker 
than  thought  to  execute  them :  shadowy,  or  terrible,  to  the  senses, 
but  safe  reality  to  the  soul.  Then  should  we  see,  but  according  to 
our  insight,  that  there  are  motions  and  mechanics  which  are  the 
likeness  and  habitation  of  life,  sense,  passion,  understanding ;  and 
we  should  know  by  solemn  experiment,  that  our  organization  is  an 
imperishable  truth  which  derides  the  grave  of  the  body. 

But  if  the  brain  is  not  shut  but  open,  not  empty  but  full,  and  if 
the  organ  of  thought  and  will  is  not  stationary,  but  moving ;  if  this 
is  the  first  nature  by  which  it  answers  to   those  ever-moving  crea- 


THE  C1RCULUS  VITJE.  G7 

tures:  and  if  it  operates,  not  by  physical  nothings,  but  by  tides  of 
animal  life :  further  if  the  motion  be  most  regular,  and  the  down- 
rush  constant — then  there  must  be  a  definite  channel  laid  down,  or 
a  nervous  circulation.  Of  this  circulation  there  are  three  elements, 
1.  The  influence  or  influxions  of  the  immaterial  mind  and  soul, 
which  come  down  as  rays  from  a  solar  brain  above  the  body,  and 
are  the  order  and  supreme  agent  in  organization.  2.  The  array  of 
accordant  agents  or  imponderable  spirits  of  physical  nature,  which 
are  the  contribution  of  the  world  on  its  bended  knees  to  the  soul. 
And,  3.  The  highest  animal  juices,  the  cream  of  the  body,  proffered 
in  the  vehicle  of  the  first  blood  of  the  heart.  Thus  the  brain  con- 
fers on  the  organization,  first,  thoughts  and  plans,  wise  as  the  soul, 
loving  or  unitary,  and  irresistibly  organic  :  secondly,  the  cosmical 
and  physical  kinsmen  of  these,  which  are  dramatically  what  the  first 
are  really,  or  which  confer  mundane  efficacy  upon  the  principles  of 
thought.  And  thirdly,  the  body  of  the  body,  or  the  primal  incar- 
nation. These  three,  or  life,  nature,  and  body,  are  one  in  the  nerv- 
ous spirit.  In  a  word,  the  nervous  circulation,  with  every  stroke  of 
its  spirit  pulse,  distributes  the  essential  principles  of  thought,  force 
and  organization:  and  the  body, therefore,  is  full  of  eyes  or  rational 
light;  full  of  understandings  and  judgments  \  full  of  stupendously 
reasonable  deeds ;  and  materially  an  incarnation  of  the  soul.  This 
is  what  the  brain  is  empowered  to  give;  the  brain  being  the  com- 
mon centre  of  gravitation  of  the  three  powers  of  mind,  body,  and 
universe. 

The  circulation  then  of  the  brain  would  be  threefold;  or  that  of 
all  nature  into  mind  and  soul,  and  vice  versa;  that  of  the  Kosmos 
into  the  brain,  and  vice  versa;  and  that  of  the  body  into  the  brain, 
and  vice  versa.  But  as  we  are  treating  of  the  body,  we  can  only 
dwell  on  the  lowest  of  these  circulations,  though  the  brain  modifies 
the  other  spheres  in  the  same  way  as  the  body  modifies  the  brain. 
Now  as  to  the  bodily  nervous  circulation,  it  comes,  like  the  rest  of 
the  secretions,  from*  the  blood,  namely,  that  of  the  carotid  arte- 
ries, whose  fine  twigs,  inserted  into  the  cortex,  are  the  vense  cavse 
of  the  cortical  hearts.  The  secretion  is  there  received,  and  meets 
the  thoughts  which  build,  and  the  magnetisms  that  clasp  and  cement 
it :  by  the  contraction  of  these  cortical  hearts  it  is  propelled  all  over 


68  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

the  body  into  the  terminal  loops,  from  whose  fingers'  ends  it  flies 
with  its  ministering  spirits,  and  is  again  received  into  the  blood, 
whose  life  it  constitutes,  and  which  it  incites  and  forces  to  construct 
the  body  on  the  principles  of  the  wisdom  of  the  soul  and  brain. 
Thus  the  nervous  circulation  has  solid  channels  only  in  the  highest 
or  proper  sphere ;  in  the  rest  it  runs  through  the  fluid  blood.  More- 
over this  system  has  its  excretions  just  like  the  vascular;  in  the 
ventricles  of  the  brain ;  in  every  interstice  of  the  nerves :  so  that 
when  it  comes  into  its  loops,  it  has  put  off  the  body  it  assumed,  and 
is  again  received  into  the  red  circulation.  Thus  the  aged  spirit  of 
the  nerves  becomes  the  youngest  life  of  the  blood.  This  is  neces- 
sary to  the  continuity  of  existence :  for  every  end  is  a  new  begin- 
ning in  the  vortex  of  our  providential  universe.  We  now  then  see 
that  without  this  openness  of  the  brain,  this  animal  spirit,  this  mo- 
tion of  the  brain,  and  this  nervous  circulation,  the  soul  could  not- be 
incarnate,  nor  the  body  animate;  nor  could  the  latter  for  a  moment 
preserve  that  unanimity  which  gives  it  coherence,  and  constitutes  it 
the  ideal  not  only  of  physical,  but  of  all  social  unity. 

If,  however,  there  be  other  principles  of  explaining  these  things, 
then  we  ardently  desire  to  know  them.  But  explanation  must  be 
attempted,  for  the  people  is  weary  of  hearing  that  they  cannot  be 
investigated;  and  from  men,  too,  whose  powers  have  no  preeminence 
to  entitle  them  to  set  limits  to  the  faculties  of  any  new  child  who 
may  be  born  into  the  world.  We  know  of  but  One  whose  rights 
went  to  this  extent,  but  His  voice  was,  "  Seek,  and  ye  shall  find; 
knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto  you." 

It  will  not  be  difficult  now,  on  these  principles  of  motion,  to  dis- 
cuss the  problem  of  the  respective  uses  of  the  cerebrum  and  cerebel- 
lum. And  in  order  to  approach  the  subject  we  would  make  the 
following  remarks.  The  nervous  system  is  a  casket  of  stimuli  of 
various  orders  superadded  to  the  body :  the  bodily  parts  or  animals 
are  constructed  mechanically  without  it,  and  only  wait  to  be  ordered 
into  action  by  its  spirits  or  voices.  These  spirits  give  different  in- 
structions according  to  the  chamber  whence  they  issue.  The  voice 
of  the  spinal  brain  to  the  body  produces  mimetic  perceptions  and 
motions;  states  that  seem  to  be  alive,  for  they  act  life  perfectly. 
The  spinal  cord  then  endows  the  body  up  to  the  point  of  represent- 


CEREBRUM  AND  CEREBELLUM.  69 

ing  life  by  accordant  motions.  The  voice  of  the  sensual  brain  fills 
the  body  with  sensual  perceptions  and  sensual  motions :  it  raises  it  up 
to  the  enjoyment  of  the  cunning  of  the  senses.  Whatever  is  re- 
quired for  their  gratification  comes  from  this  source  in  the  shape  of 
emotions  and  organic  instincts.  Under  its  influence  the  organs  and 
viscera  are  like  the  animals  hunting  for  their  prey;  and  each  takes 
what  it  wants  from  the  common  stock,  as  the  living  creatures  take 
their  pabulum  from  the  earth.  The  organs  would  indeed  do  this 
without  these  sensual  brains,  but  only  as  vegetables  in  a  kind  of 
wooden  representation.  Finally,  the  cortical  surfaces,  or  the  ganglia 
of  thought  and  will,  by  their  spirits  diffuse  their  own  light  through 
the  body,  so  that  all  and  singular  the  organic  acts  and  processes  are 
done  with  the  tincture  of  a  higher  than  animal  wisdom.  All  these 
would  be  done  by  the  senses,  but  then  their  essence  would  be  differ- 
ent ;  as  the  essence  of  bee  architecture  is  different  from  that  of  hu- 
man, though  not  different  in  its  mathematics. 

Thus  the  human  body  is  all  obedience  to  these  three  degrees  of 
nerve-spirit,  and  if  it  stopped  with  the  reflex  actions,  it  would  be  but 
a  dramatic  mask,  involving  no  wisdom  beyond  that  of  supreme  mim- 
icry :  and  in  the  same  way,  if  it  stopped  with  the  animal  brain,  it 
would  still  involve  no  wisdom  beyond  the  perfect  adaptation  of  sen- 
sual means  to  sensual  ends.  It  does  not  however  stop  here;  but 
even  its  theatricism  and  animality  become  instinct  with  reason  and 
will.  And  the  like  process  which  impregnates  sense  and  motion, 
as  we  know  them,  with  reasonable  thought  and  voluntary  ac- 
tion, strikes  the  same  through  the  secretest  parts  of  the  organization, 
and  makes  the  blood  rational,  and  the  bile  rational,  and  in  short 
makes  the  whole  body  human  by  the  radiation  of  that  which  alone 
is  human,  from  above  its  summit. 

But  now,  in  the  human  being,  these  upper  states  are  not  only 
fitful,  but  also  intermitting  or  regularly  periodical.  Sleep  comes  to 
all,  and  takes  away  impression,  sense  and  understanding,  as  well  as 
motion,  impulse  and  will.  And  in  this  respect  waking  too  is  full 
of  somnolency,  or  abrogation  of  our  superior  powers.  "'"If  then  there 
were  not  some  provision,  sleepless  and  permanent,  to  keep  us  up  to 
the  human  level,  the  answerableness  of  the  body  to  the  soul,  and 
consequently  the  animation  of  the  former,  would  perish  many  times 


70  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

every  day,  and  certainly  with  the  first  slumber.  For  if  all  that  is 
animal  really  died  down  to  the  surface  of  the  earth  in  the  seasons 
of  sleep,  the  body,  heavy  mass  as  it  is,  and  belonging  of  right  to 
the  ground,  would  be  in  the  clutches  of  the  grave,  irrecallable  from 
its  congenial  gravitation.  To  prevent  this,  there  are  two  brains,  a 
constant  and  an  inconstant,  but  each,  corresponding  to  the  other. 
The  cerebellum  does  unconsciously  and  permanently  whatever  the 
cerebrum  performs  rationally  and  by  fits.  The  cerebellum  follows 
and  adopts  the  states  induced  by  the  cerebrum  on  the  organization, 
and  holds  the  notes  of  the  ruling  mind.  Thus  immediately  after 
sleep,  the  motions  of  thought  may  begin  at  once,  for  they  have  not 
been  organically,  but  only  consciously  suspended.  We  see  this  in 
an  image  in  the  lungs.  If  the  latter  were  voluntary  organs,  the 
man  would  cease  breathing  so  soon  as  he  fell  asleep.  But  they  are 
both  voluntary  and  involuntary,  the  latter  when  not  the  former;  and 
the  movement  is  always  proceeding,  night  and  day,  so  that  it  has 
not  to  be  created,  but  what  is  an  easy  matter,  merely  directed  into 
the  voluntary  channels.  Similarly  so  with  the  organic  motions  of 
thought  and  will :  these  are  always  going  on,  and  merely  require 
direction,  not  creation,  by  the  cerebrum.  Concordantly  with  this 
we  can  explain  sleep,  and  much  that  occurs  in  sleep:  e.g.,  the  fact 
that  our  thoughts  and  judgments  are  marvellously  cleared  and  ar- 
ranged during  that  state;  as  though  a  reason  more  perfect  than 
reason,  and  uninfluenced  by  its  partialities,  had  been  at  work  when 
we  were  in  our  beds.  This  also — that  our  first  waking  thoughts  are 
often  our  finest  and  truest;  and  that  dreams  are  sometimes  eminent 
and  wise;  which  phenomena  are  incompatible  with  the  idea  that  we 
die  down  like  grass  into  our  organic  roots  at  night,  and  are  resusci- 
tated as  from  a  winter  in  the  morning.  And  it  must  again  be  ad- 
verted to,  that  this  would  not  suit  the  Grand  Economist;  for  after 
nature  has  ascended  to  one  plateau  of  life,  represented  by  a  day,  she 
will  surely  not  tumble  down  into  the  valley  because  rest  is  needed, 
but  will  pitch  her  tent,  and  make  her  couch  upon  that  elevation. 
"We  conclude  then  that  the  cerebrum  is  the  brain  of  the  mind,  and 
the  cerebellum  the  corresponding  brain  of  the  body ;  and  as  during 
sleep  the  cerebrum  is  a  body,  the  cerebellum  at  such  time  is  the 
brain  of  the  cerebrum  also.     It  may  be  added  that  the  cerebellum, 


FUNCTION  OF  THE  CEREBELLUM.  71 

in  adopting  the  mental  states  as  her  standards,  is  also  a  register  of 
the  mind,  and  converts  actions  into  habits,  or  in  other  words,  into 
structures.  And  thus  the  whole  man,  genius,  intelligence,  logic, 
sense,  skill,  action,  may  be  called  instinctive  or  given  in  nature,  if 
we  look  at  him  from  this  providential  side,  whose  organ  neither 
slumbers  nor  sleeps. 

Man  then,  as  we  see,  is  captured  in  sleep,  not  by  death,  but  by 
his  better  nature :  today  runs  in  through  a  deeper  day  to  become 
the  parent  of  to-morrow;  and  the  man  issues  every  morning,  bright 
as  the  morning  and  of  life  size,  from  the  peaceful  womb  of  the 
cerebellum. 

If  these  views  be  carefully  weighed,  it  will  be  found  that  they 
harmonize  with  the  facts  of  the  case,  and  not  less  so  with  experi- 
ments and  vivisections.  For  if  the  harmonies  of  the  frame,  and 
the  undercurrents  which  make  its  fitful  states  normal,  depend  upon 
the  cerebellum,  so  also  do  the  harmonies  of  motions,  the  production 
of  which  has  been  supposed  to  be  the  office  of  the  lesser  brain.  If 
we  are  right,  the  removal  of  the  cerebellum  ought  to  leave  for  a 
time  the  conscious  machinery  and  powers,  but  fitful  as  thought,  sense 
or  fancy :  the  body  ought  to  change  like  a  mind,  now  acting  in  part, 
now  ceasing,  and  in  short  in  everything  capricious  and  partial,  as 
might  be  expected  when  the  man  or  animal  was  given  up  to  his  own 
wisdom,  and  had  lost  his  organic  providence.  On  the  other  hand 
the  removal  of  the  cerebrum  ought  to  leave  everything,  and  the 
power  of  everything,  minus  consciousness,  and  therefore  minus  the 
stimuli  and  beginnings  of  action  which  come  through  consciousness. 
This  of  course  where  no  other  parts  were  injured.  We  may  also 
infer  on  these  principles,  that  where  the  condition  of  animals  ap- 
proaches sleep  or  inaction,  there  is  less  need  of  a  cerebellum,  for 
these  creatures  are  already  on  the  ground,  and  comparatively  secure. 
But  where  the  least  absence  of  mind  might  cause  a  fall,  there  a  per- 
manent organic  provision  is  required,  in  the  shape  of  a  larger  cere- 
bellum. For  we  may  lay  it  down  as  a  formula  resulting  from  all 
now  said,  that  the  perpetuation  of  high  motion,  composite  motion, 
or  harmony,  is  the  function  of  this  organ.  On  the  same  principles 
again  it  becomes  probable,  that  the  genital  function  assigned  by  the 
phrenologists  to  the  cerebellum  is  founded  upon  truth,     xlnd  now 


72  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

we  leave  it  as  a  problem,  -whether  there  be,  or  not,  an  analogous 
provision  for  the  sensual  ganglia,  to  preserve  the  level  of  sense  when 
our  senses  are  annulled;  and  what  the  organ  is?  And  the  question 
may  be  repeated  for  the  spinal  cord  also,  with  the  insinuation, 
whether  the  sympathetic  nerve  be  not  its  cerebellum?  For  we 
regard  it  as  certain  that  the  naturalness  and  economy  of  force,  and 
the  accumulation,  are  secured  everywhere  in  the  bodily  system. 

The  above  function  of  the  cerebellum  has  its  analogues  in  every 
sphere.  We  see  it  in  thought,  which  has  two  elements,  viz.,  that 
of  consciousness  and  personal  energy,  and  that  of  natural  growth, 
the  first  corresponding  to  cerebrum,  the  latter  to  cerebellum.  And 
these  are  often  disparted  in  individuals.  In  some  there  is  a  prepon- 
derance of  cerebral  mind;  their  thoughts  move  quickly,  but  flightily ; 
as  we  say,  there  is  a  want  of  balance;  a  want  of  body  or  nature  in 
their  minds ;  a  defect  of  organic  or  cerebellar  faculty.  Their  mental 
movements  are  random  and  inharmonious;  they  do  not  retain  or  ac- 
cumulate wisdom;  even  repetition  does  them  no  good;  but  they 
strike  out  afresh  in  the  vagueness  of  discourse,  with  no  nature  to 
back  them.  They  have  all  the  senses  but  common  sense,  which  is 
the  spring,  incarnation  and  harmony  of  them  all.  In  philosophy 
or  collective  thought  the  same  division  is  visible.  Philosophies  are 
made,  and  also  they  grow;  they  are  both  cerebral  and  cerebellar. 
Universal  tradition,  the  largest  pressure  of  common  sense,  is  the 
philosophical  cerebellum.  And  here  we  see  what  complete  experi- 
ments of  vivisection  have  been  performed ;  and  what  the  result  has 
been  in  philosophies  that  cut  away  the  nature,  accumulation,  force 
and  body  of  preceding  thought;  which  extirpate  the  fixed  organ  on 
of  human  growth,  or  the  traditionary  cerebellum.  Dr.  Carpenter, 
speaking  of  smaller  things,  describes  to  the  letter  the  effects  which 
follow:  "It  does  not  seem,"  says  he,  "that  the  animal  has  in  any 
degree  lost  the  voluntary  power  over  its  individual  muscles :  but  it 

cannot  combine  their  actions  for  any  general  movement The 

reflex  movements,  such  as  those  of  respiration,  remain  unimpaired. 
When  an  animal  thus  mutilated  is  laid  on  its  back,  it  cannot  recover 
its  former  posture;  but  it  moves  its  limbs,  or  flutters  its  wings,  and 
evidently  is  not  in  a  state  of  stupor.  When  placed  in  the  erect 
position j  it  staggers  and  fedls  like  a  drunken  man;  not,  however, 


USAGE  OF  THE  BRAIN.  73 

without  making  efforts  to  maintain  its  balance."*  Such  is  the  want 
of  health  or  wholeness  that  comes  from  rescinding  the  natural  brain 
that  lies  behind  us,  and  beginning  the  intellect  afresh  with  each 
passing  day:  for  where  there  is  no  vis  a  tergo,  there  is  no  direction 
either  in  physics  or  metaphysics.  And  the  sphere  may  be  changed 
again  with  the  same  result.  Law-making,  which  is  the  political 
cerebrum,  stands  in  a  similar  ratio  to  the  public  morality,  which  is 
the  political  cerebellum;  and  where  the  latter  is  ignored,  political 
vivisection  is  performed,  and  constitution-makers  repeat  Dr.  Car- 
penter's phenomena  on  the  scale  of  nations.  And  even  in  the  high- 
est sphere,  where  the  cerebrum  is  termed  prudence,  and  sometimes 
wisdom,  and  the  cerebellum  is  providence,  we  see  the  same  thing. 
Here  the  vivisection  is  frequent,  and  the  results  very  confirmatory. 
We  see  the  quirks  of  men  whose  actions,  vigorous  enough,  are  all 
tumbling  to  pieces;  spiritual  staggering  and  drunkenness;  a  positive 
sense  that  there  is  no  Glod,  but  that  man  is  the  manager;  and  the 
like  aberrations.  All  these  instances  are  in  the  series  of  the  cere- 
bellum, and  prove  the  universality  of  its  functions.  Man  is  in  the 
leading-strings  of  God  and  nature,  and  what  is  greater  than  himself, 
to  the  end  of  his  career;  he  is  as  a  little  child,  whether  he  benefit 
by  it  or  not;  and  the  sovereignty  of  the  things  above  him  is  repre- 
sented by  an  organ  or  envoy  from  the  everlasting,  planted  in  his 
own  head;  and  which,  as  we  have  now  sufficiently  said,  is  the  cere- 
bellum. But  it  lies  unobtrusively  underneath  the  cerebrum,  be- 
cause its  guidance  is  nocturnal  and  unseen;  and  where  it  concurs 
with  reason  and  will,  it  delights  to  seem  to  be  their  servant  and  not 
their  master.  When  therefore  the  cerebellum  or  its  similars  are 
abstracted,  the  result  is,  motion  and  no  harmony,  progress  without 
balance,  thought  without  common  sense,  art  without  nature,  philo- 
sophy without  humanity,  freedom  without  a  career  or  destiny,  and 
prudence  alien  to  providence.  In  constituting  this  little  series,  we 
seem  to  hear  the  whisper  of  a  reason  why  our  own  age  has  no  reve- 
lation concerning  the  function  of  the  cerebellum. 

A  word  with  regard  to  the  usage  of  the  brain.     This  grows  with 
our  years.     At  first  all  is  impression  and  convulsion ;  very  little 

*  Manual  of  Physiology,  n.  912. 


74  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

cerebral  exercise  concurs  with  this  state.  Then  all  is  sensation,  and 
action  gratifying  sense;  and  the  cerebral  hemispheres  are  called 
into  play  in  a  more  important  degree.  Lastly  comes  the  rational 
period  mixed  or  marred  with  the  others,  and  the  brain  movements 
are  directed  more  finely  to  suit  the  new  demands.  The  mind 
moreover  handles  the  brain  as  the  brain  handles  the  body.  At 
first  the  thoughts  are  little  better  that  confused  impressions,  and 
the  rational  actions  like  sensual  or  spasmodic  states.  But  by  de- 
grees the  will  gets  into  the  cortex,  and  the  understanding  also,  and 
mental  continence  is  established.  The  brain  sits  and  notices,  and 
stands  and  runs,  as  its  limbs  are  directed  by  the  voluntary  powers. 
It  becomes  to  the  full  locomotive  through  a  host  of  fears,  trials  and 
falls.  Every  nerve  muscle  now  comes  under  control,  and  the 
brain  enters  on  the  command  of  its  position.  Learning  to  think 
appears  to  be  analogous  to  learning  to  observe;  and  learning  to 
will,  to  learning  to  act.  Hence  a  good  education  would  enable  us 
to  use  all  parts  of  the  brain,  as  a  fine  gymnastic  system  calls  into 
play  all  and  unwonted  parts  of  the  body.  But  let  the  education 
be  as  good  as  it  will,  there  is  still  a  difference  in  brains,  and  one 
can  do  feats  which  another  cannot  attempt.  The  brain,  however, 
is  not  the  limit  but  the  vessel  of  the  mind,  nor  do  the  faculties  of 
one  sphere  necessarily  argue  those  of  the  other.  This  world's 
idiots  may  only  be  taking  a  long  natural  rest,  to  fit  them  for  the 
activities  of  another  station ;  where  the  brain  cannot  be  a  chariot 
to  ride  in,  it  is  still  a  bed  to  sleep  upon. 

We  have  thus  taken  notice  of  some  leading  problems  respecting 
the  brain,  dismissing  many  others ;  but  still  there  are  matters  of 
importance  on  which  a  few  words  may  be  said.  And  first  as  to  the 
use  of  the  two  symmetrical  halves  of  the  nervous  system.  This, 
we  believe,  is  a  deep  problem,  and  capable  of  a  large  superficial 
reply.  Have  not  all  things  two  sides,  and  must  not  the  brain  and 
nerves  image  and  use  the  doubleness  of  universal  nature  ?  Man 
has  two  halves,  respectively  called  the  male  and  female,  and  the 
body  has  two,  in  its  right  and  left  sides.  Action  is  the  function  of 
the  one,  and  passion,  answering  to  action,  is  the  function  of  the 
other.  The  left  hand  steadies  the  object  upon  which  the  right 
hand  works.     The  woman  constructs  the  material  groundwork,  the 


WHY  THE  BRAIN  HAS  TWO  HALVES.  75 

home,  from  which  the  man  sallies,  and  to  which  he  reverts,  as  his 
centre  of  operations.  The  one  brain  holds  the  object  of  thought, 
while  the  other  brain  works  upon  it  with  active  power.  This  func- 
tion of  the  two  sides  is  a  peculiar  repetition  of  that  of  the  cerebrum 
and  cerebellum,  without  which  consciousness  would  not  hold,  just 
as  the  male  sex  without  the  female  would  be  a  power  without  a  ful- 
crum, a  wanderer  without  the  strength  of  home.  Principles  cannot 
be  applied  without  a  special  envoy  of  their  own,  and  the  cerebel- 
lum must  have  the  weaker  sex  or  better  half  of  the  cerebrum  in  its 
interest  in  order  to  manage  the  cerebrum  aright.  If  the  reader 
consults  his  mind,  he  will  find  that  in  one  and  the  same  operation 
the  process  of  steadying  the  grasp  of  thought  concurs  with  that  of 
exercising  its  active  movements;  that  his  soul  has  two  hands;  and 
these  two  processes  or  hands,  widely  different  but  united,  are  suited 
in  the  twofoldness  of  the  cerebral  lobes.  But  what  is  more,  the 
two  brains  decussate  or  copulate,  and  the  right  head  is  married  to 
the  left  body,  and  the  left  head  to  the  right  body ;  and  this  cross- 
ing of  powers,  whereby  active  and  passive  are  not  only  collateral, 
but  embrace,  not  only  symmetrical,  but  one  superposed  upon  the 
other,  is  a  necessity  for  action  and  thought,  considered  as  mental 
fruitfulness.  The  delights  of  harmony  would  not  be  felt  if  the  two 
brains  did  not  thus  combine,  nor  would  the  brain  have  a  circle  in 
itself,  unless  each  half  had  the  support  of  contact  with  its  partner 
before  going  forth  into  the  body. 

Furthermore,  we  have  noticed  in  the  nervous  system  a  reference 
to  something  beyond  and  above,  which  soon  lands  us  in  the  mind, 
as  the  first  permanent  station.  Thus  the  feeling  of  the  fingers  con- 
ducts us  anatomically  to  the  spinal  cord,  in  the  centres  of  which, 
and  not  in  the  fingers,  the  sensation  lodges.  The  cord  at  once  re- 
fers us  to  the  base  of  the  brain,  where  sensation  has  its  proper 
home.  "We  know,  however,  that  it  is  in  the  cortical  centres  that 
that  attention  lives,  which  is  the  inner  sense,  or  the  owner  of  sen- 
sation. These  cortices,  however,  arc  dead  and  material  per  se,  and 
thence  the  reference  is  straight  to  the  mind,  as  the  first  organism 
that  appropriates  sensation,  and  calls  it  really  its  own.  TVe  stop 
here,  not  because  the  journey  is  done,  but  because  the  day  of 
thought  is  spent,  and  our  science  wants  a  rest.     Thus  one  lesson 


76  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

of  this  system  is  the  unselfishness  of  our  organization,  and  its  re- 
cognition of  a  hierarchy  which  has  no  top  save  in  that  which  is 
more  than  body,  and  of  supernatural  endowments.  And  in  the 
downward  series,  running  from  wills  to  motions,  the  prime  movers 
are  as  much  above  us  as  the  original  feelers  in  sensation  :  a  super- 
incumbent organism  to  be  called  spiritual,  and  which  makes  itself 
away  to  God  with  treble  velocity  of  unselfishness,  must  be  suppli- 
cated as  at  once  the  original  arbitrator  of  will,  and  the  last  receiver 
of  the  thoughts  which  come  from  the  world  under  the  dresses  of 
sensations. 

This  system,  however,  whilst  we  think  of  the  body,  is  a  land  of 
mountains,  from  which  the  whole  microcosm  is  visible.  It  rises 
white,  with  its  pillars  of  alabaster,  from  the  blood-lands  of  limb, 
heart  and  liver,  and  comprehends  wider  scenes  as  steep  after  steep 
is  surmounted.  Its  elevation  is  measured  by  function,  which  gives 
the  altitude  over  the  level  of  the  rolling  juices  and  their  shores. 
The  representation  of  life  by  the  spinal  chain  is  already  a  summit 
towering  above  the  flesh.  The  streams  from  this,  falling  upon  the 
machinery  of  organization,  give  powers  corresponding  to  the  height 
and  force  of  the  descent.  The  rivers  of  sensation  and  impulse,  again, 
descending  from  loftier  tables,  have  the  force  of  their  greater  fall, 
and  press  sense  into  paits  and  functions,  into  which  no  weaker  tor- 
rents could  gain  way.  And  finally,  the  mental  streams,  each  in- 
stinct with  the  view  of  the  whole  commanded  from  the  top,  have  a 
power  of  descent  and  penetration  which  belongs  to  such  intellectual 
rivers,  whose  sources  are  as  the  beads  that  the  sun  engenders  on  the 
needles  of  the  supreme  hills,  heaven-kissing.  We  say  nothing  of 
the  cloudy  ranges  beyond,  or  the  spiritual  temple,  excepting  that  it 
too  is  of  a  new  mountain  order,  though  built  out  of  the  firmament, 
whose  waters  are  above  us  as  below  us,  and  all  the  rest  but  currents 
in  their  eternal  sea. 

We  may  here  assign  two  reasons  why  the  brain  is  at  the  top )  in 
the  first  place,  because  nature  herself  is  the  worship  of  rank  and 
station,  under  their  other  names  of  excellence  and  power;  and 
secondly,  because  the  soul  is  the  top  of  the  top,  and  the  brain  by 
its  place  meets  the  soul.  And  as  the  arts  and  industries  flow  down 
from  the  brain,  and  the  spiritual  waters  tend  to  find  their  level,  so 


RELATION  OF  THE  BRAIN  TO  THE  BODY.  77 

here  a  force  is  provided  which  carries  them  back,  of  their  nature, 
when  the  channels  are  provided,  to  the  altitude  whence  they  came, 
or  to  the  feet  of  the  soul :  that  the  life  of  man  may  not  be  wasted 
underground  among  his  viscera,  but  may  circulate  from  his  head  to 
his  head,  without  a  drop  being  spilt  from  the  high  nervousness  of 
the  body. 

It  is  not  surprising  in  this  eminent  region,  that  physiologists, 
loyal  to  their  heads,  have  assigned  to  the  brain  the  perpetual  govern- 
ment of  the  body,  or  have  regarded  every  function  and  every  struc- 
ture, as  but  a  procedure  or  emanation  from  these  commanding  parts. 
Indeed,  on  the  spiritual  or  nocturnal  side,  such  a  view  becomes  just, 
for  the  brain  absorbs  all  the  light  and  power  of  the  system,  and  is 
the  only  noticeable  part,  or  the  body  of  the  body.  So  when  the 
sun  ceases  to  shine,  our  domestic  and  motherly  ground  disappears, 
and  contemplation,  facing  the  vault,  sees  no  longer  the  opaque 
earth,  but  only  the  ignited  planets  and  the  suns  of  systems,  as  it 
were  the  galaxies  of  the  starry  brain.  And  so  with  the  body  also : 
when  its  grosser  senses  cease  to  overwhelm  us,  and  thought  kindles 
in  the  teeming  night,  the  body  drops  away,  and  organ  after  organ 
ceases  to  show,  until  we  are  left  in  the  presence  of  a  man,  standing 
with  luminous  feet  upon  the  darkness,  and  we  see  the  ghostly  human 
form,  all  nerve,  feeling  and  volition;  the  brain  as  head  and  eye, 
body  and  limbs,  founded  not  upon  matter,  but  like  the  organic  stars 
on  its  own  sufficient  form.  We  awaken,  however,  from  these  alti- 
tudes, and  find  that  the  planet  too,  and  the  material  body,  are  things 
in  themselves,  nay,  are  our  mothers,  and  deserve  our  best  considera- 
tion in  the  homely  way. 

But  the  organic  relation  of  the  brain  to  the  body  generally,  has 
not  yet  been  well  made  out.  It  is  clear,  that  the  brain  is  the  en- 
gine of  the  mind,  and  that  the  other  viscera  make  up  the  body, 
which  seems  to  be  nourished  on  its  own  account.  This,  however, 
does  not  explain  the  immersion  of  the  one  within  the  other,  or  the 
subjection  of  each  to  the  necessities  of  each.  But  surely,  if  the 
body  gives  the  brain  substance,  the  brain  gives  the  body  what  it  has 
to  give,  namely,  brains.  In  this  case,  all  the  processes  of  nutrition, 
circulation,  secretion,  &c,  must  be  controllable  by  the  brain  accord- 
ing to  its  perfection;  and  that  this  is  the  case,  we  know  from  the 


78     .  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

emotions  which  always  and  involuntarily  transfer  the  state  of  the 
brain  into  the  visceral  lives.  Convivial  joy,  the  brain's  joy,  makes 
the  stomach  do  double  digestion  with  no  harm  to  itself.  Energy, 
brain  tension,  fires  the  muscles  to  feats  that  muscles  never  meant. 
Other  passions  scourge  the  liver  or  the  kidneys  into  speed  of  manu- 
facture, quite  beyond  their  proper  powers.  The  function  of  the 
brain  then  to  the  body  is  one  of  forcing  or  culture.  The  brain 
makes  no  clod  of  the  body,  no  drop  of  the  secretions :  it  makes  no 
seed  that  the  body  grows.  But  it  is  the  husbandman  of  the  corpo- 
real farm.  The  farm  may  go  wild,  and  it  is  still  something,  though 
then  called  a  desert.  And  organization  may  subsist  without  brains, 
but  it  becomes  more  and  more  tangled,  lower  and  lower,  until  you 
cannot  say  that  it  is  alive.  The  ratio  of  the  brain  to  the  body,  is 
that  of  man  to  the  planet.  The  planet  is  ready-made;  every  stone, 
plant  and  animal,  night  and  day,  the  greater  and  the  lesser  light, 
are  all  there,  and  could  not  be  created  by  us  if  they  were  not.  But, 
man  comes,  the  brain  comes,  as  the  cultivator.  He  is  set  there  to 
have  dominion  over  all;  to  be  the  image  of  the  wisdom  who  made 
all;  to  spread  himself  as  a  head  over  all;  and  to  modify  all,  as  the 
last  result,  or  the  secondary  soul  of  all.  Therefore,  until  the  brain 
has  penetrated  every  viscus  and  function,  it  has  not  cultivated  the 
body,  as  until  man  has  grasped  the  climates,  and  forced  them 
through  their  products  and  exotics,  he  has  not  cultivated  the  earth. 
The  relation  of  the  brain  then  to  the  body  is,  as  the  cultivator  of 
the  fields,  originally  wild,  of  nutrition,  secretion,  excretion,  and  the 
like.  The  cultivation  begins  as  soon  as  the  emotions  of  the  brain 
begin,  and  every  state  of  the  brain  plays  in  good  or  bad  husbandry 
upon  the  brute  or  visceral  powers. 

But  the  brain  could  do  nothing  of  this,  if  it  were  not  itself  among 
the  natures  that  it  commands.  For  what  commander  can  speak  to 
his  soldiers,  unless  he  be  a  common  man  like  themselves,  though  an 
officer  to  boot?  And,  if  man  be  not  the  supreme  animal,  the  lion 
and  the  lamb^o;*  excellence,  how  can  he  wield  the  animal  tribes? 
And  again,  if  spirit  have  not  all  that  matter  has,  how  can  the  soul 
govern  the  body  ?  Now,  we  have  shown  in  detail,  that  the  brain, 
as  commanding  organ,  possesses  the  attributes  of  the  lower  organs 
in  a  superlative  degree.     We  have  shown  that  it  is  the  heart  of 


RELATION  OF  THE  BRAIN  TO  THE  BODY.        79 

hearts,  for  it  receives  from  the  body  and  the  universe  a  spiritual 
blood,  which  its  cortices  pulse  forth  in  infinite  streams  throughout 
the  frame.  We  have  shown  that  it  is  the  lung  of  lungs,  for  its  ani- 
mation is  the  breathing  of  the  soul  in  the  all-communicative  ether. 
We  have  shown  that  it  is  the  stomach  of  stomachs,  because  of  its  bold 
chyniistry  in  the  preparation  of  the  food  of  food,  which  is  the  nerve- 
spirit.  It  is  also  the  gland  of  glands,  and  the  muscle  of  muscles, 
for  it  secretes  the  purest  of  juices,  and  obeys  the  beginnings  of  the 
motor  force.  Aye,  and  it  is  the  primal  womb  of  life  and  thought. 
In  short,  it  is  the  body  over  again,  piece  by  piece,  with  a  truth  be- 
fitting the  brain.  Hence,  again,  comes  corroboration  of  our  views, 
for  we  now  perceive  that  we  have  assigned  functions  to  the  brain,  of 
opening,  breathing,  moving,  circulating,  and  the  like,  which  are  in- 
dispensable to  its  maintaining  relations  with  the  similar  functions  of 
the  body.  In  short,  we  find  that  our  deductions  are  but  the  claim 
of  a  common  nature,  as  it  were  a  common  humanity,  between  the 
brain  and  the  body.  The  brain,  however,  we  must  remember,  is 
unmeasured  by  the  body,  and  its  attributes  are  peculiar,  and  not  to 
be  named  by  low  names,  excepting  for  the  sake  of  illustration. 

With  all  these  advantages,  however,  of  a  community  of  nature 
and  aims  with  the  body,  the  brain  could  still  do  nothing,  if  there 
were  not  a  physical  motion  in  the  body  corresponding  to  the  mental 
motion  in  the  brain.  If  the  body  did  not  conspire  or  breathe  with 
the  brain,  the  metaphysical  force  which  alone  the  brain  per  se  pos- 
sesses, could  not  be  carried  out.  So,  if  the  force  of  the  seasons  did 
not  concur  with  the  force  of  the  cultivator,  husbandry  would  be  im- 
possible. And  so,  if  the  moving  disciplines  of  an  army  were  not 
unanimous  with  the  commander's  voice,  military  operations  could 
not  exist.  But  we  have  said  enough  on  this  subject,  which  con- 
cerns the  seconding  of  the  fine  brain  thoughts  by  the  powerful  phy- 
sical lungs. 

The  result  of  our  observations  hitherto  is,  that  the  brain  opens 
the  body  to  new  influences,  or  gives  it  animation,  and  weighs  upon 
it  with  the  pressure  of  numerous  changes  or  reforms;  causing  it  to 
follow  the  mind,  so  far  as  the  latter  consists  in  the  brain,  through 
its  vicissitudes.  A  similar  animation,  as  we  have  seen,  is  introduced 
by  man  upon  the  earth,  wbich  he  is  born  to  subdue,  and  to  recon- 


80  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

struct  upon  his  own  wants  and  ideals.  By  this  means,  for  example, 
the  inanimate  ground  is  covered  with  waving  vegetations ;  the  vege- 
table kingdom  is  compressed  by  the  animal,  which  browses  down  its 
increase,  and  serves  as  a  partial  end  to  arrest  its  exaggerations ;  and 
all  together  are  braced  round  by  man  in  girths  and  limbs  of  muscu- 
lar arts,  upon  which  sciences  and  volitions  directly  play  for  tighten- 
ing the  world  to  human  aims,  and  carrying  it  through  those  revolu- 
tions of  culture  which  are  its  aspects  towards  our  wants.  In  this 
respect  the  trees  are  not  inanimate,  nor  the  beasts  without  progress ) 
but  they  breathe  and  walk  after  man  down  the  line  of  ages  as  after 
Orpheus  in  the  days  of  old.  Their  proper  brain,  the  genus  homo, 
takes  them  along  with  him,  and  they  become  what  he  makes  them, 
or  are  as  he  leaves  them;  as  God  has  ordained. 

The  last  part  of  our  theme  has  yet  to  be  written,  or  the  compara- 
tives and  affinities  of  the  brain.  And  here  we  may  state,  that  we 
extend  the  province  of  comparative  reasoning,  and  if  the  reader 
pleases,  of  comparative  anatomy,  above  the  human  brain  as  well  as 
beneath  it.  And  we  hold  that  the  brains  of  the  creatures  larger 
than  individual  man  are  truly  illustrative  of  his  little  brain,  whereas 
animal  cerebra  are  but  falsely  or  negatively  illustrative.  By  the 
creatures  larger  than  man  we  designate  societies,  nations,  races,  or 
the  individuals  who  cultivate  the  globe  of  history.  The  bodies  of 
these  are  definite,  fibrous,  and  individual,  like  animal  bodies :  they 
are  mechanical  also,  though  in  a  higher  range  of  mechanics. 

In  the  second  consideration  of  the  individual  man,  the  brain  is 
his  genius — that  which  fills  him  with  spirit,  makes  a  truth  or  aim 
into  his  virtual  intellect  and  will,  and  pours  luminous  rivers  of  these 
over  his  works.  This  punctum  vivens  of  his  mind  animates  the  rest, 
and  radiating  its  ideals  far  and  near,  irritates  his  apathies  to  death 
under  hot  arrows  of  zeal.  This  genius  creates  and  then  concurs 
with  his  wants;  and  the  two  together,  or  his  life  and  his  necessity, 
animate  up  to  the  shape  and  point  at  which  determination  can  have 
actions  done.  These  brain  attributes,  absent  in  none,  are  brilliant 
in  some  men,  who  take  the  name  of  geniuses  on  that  account,  and 
their  deeds,  by  a  fated  fortuity,  are  treasured  by  their  fellows  as  a 
common  interest,  though  of  no  more  than  individual  growth,    These 


HIGHER  ANALOGUES  OF  THE  BRAIN.  81 

are  the  open  men  of  their  time,  who  hinder  God  the  least :  more 
rays  shine  through  them  than  through  the  rest :  you  cannot  say  what 
their  genius  is,  apart  from  what  it  shows  and  does,  unless  it  be  a 
natural  road  from  heaven  to  earth :  influx  and  the  fluid  kingdoms 
are  their  substances,  and  they  know  that  the  solid  world  is  fuel  laid 
up  against  the  day  of  heat;  also  that  truths  and  ideals  are  kings  and 
priests,  whose  mortal  namesakes,  visceral  and  vegetating,  are  clay 
as  in  the  potter's  hands  when  that  clay  comes.  Their  private 
thoughts  seem  the  wants  of  the  time  and  the  schemes  of  societies; 
they  are  said  to  be  sent  and  to  have  their  mission ;  for  the  Maker 
has  set  them  in  the  rhythm  of  his  plan,  and  this  world  and  that 
world  heave  to  help  them  to  shoot  their  lightnings  to  their  destined 
ends.  And  still  they  are  only  the  first  brains  that  the  epoch  touches, 
and  which,  therefore,  it  publishes;  and  being  the  highest  they  are 
the  longest  visible  as  we  pass  away :  but,  as  we  said,  every  man  is  a 
genius  or  an  end,  a  space  crowded  with  ideals,  and  these  ideals  are 
the  brain  of  the  soul,  or  the  personal  life. 

This  word,  genius,  reminds  us  also  of  what  we  may  call  the  So- 
cratic  brain,  which  attends  upon  the  mortal  organ.  In  this  sense 
the  brain-principle  is  an  organization  of  guardian  spirits,  who  live 
with  our  minds,  fight  our  battles  over  our  heads,  whisper  wisdom 
more  than  belongs  to  us,  make  our  lights  and  resources  exceed  our 
days,  and  extend  our  debts  into  the  unseen  land  to  which  we  are 
adjourning.  This  vicarious  function  of  souls  is  the  result  of  their 
concatenation  on  the  cortical  plan.  For  here,  where  we  are,  our 
purer  minds  are  infant,  not  yet  detached  from  the  matrix  of  the 
brain,  and  they  sorely  need  guardians  on  the  other  side  of  time — as 
it  were,  parent  hands  and  instructions  to  see  them  fairly  through 
this  big  nursery,  the  world.  We  know  not  how  little  our  lives 
would  be,  or  how  inanimate,  if  the  gaps  of  power  and  the  passing- 
ness  of  the  day  were  not  filled  and  compensated  from  another  source 
where  power  is  incessant  and  wisdom  eternal.  It  would  be  as  though 
each  nervous  fibril  had  but  one  cortical  dot  prefixed  to  it,  and  not 
the  whole  brain;  or  as  though  each  mind  stood  alone,  and  were  not 
environed  and  kept  upright  by  an  array  of  minds  as  long  as  the  ages 
and  as  high  as  the  heavens. 

But  epochs  have  brains  as  well  as  individuals,  and  these  are  the 


82  THE  HUMAN  BRAIN. 

ruling  spirits  and  ideas  which  are  enshrined  in  their  institutions. 
For  epochs  are  the  duration  of  the  social  life,  and  what  is  death  and 
birth  for  the  individual  is  but  the  exchange  of  old  atoms  for  new  in 
the  marching  epoch.  These  cerebral  ideas  are  at  first  the  private 
ends  common  to  the  race  in  a  given  period,  which  appear  on  a  new 
morning  in  the  field  of  individualities,  and  are  the  germ  and  birth- 
day of  a  social  state.  The  principle  assumed,  the  grouping  of  the 
cell,  governs  the  composition  from  the  least  to  the  greatest,  from  the 
single  family  to  the  epoch  of  twenty  centuries.  As  the  grouping 
proceeds  the  action  becomes  grander,  and  the  scale  of  operations  is 
transferred  from  homesteads  to  continents,  but  the  same  cause  is 
carried  on  in  both  extremes.  Like  fate  it  revolves  through  senates 
and  priesthoods,  whose  maddest  strifes  it  builds  into  its  plan.  The 
truths  of  the  time  enter  the  epoch  through  its  own  convenient 
sciences  or  eyes.  The  acts  and  charities  of  life  are  interpreted  ac- 
cording to  its  familiar  pattern,  and  committed  to  the  spirit  of  its 
nerves.  In  short,  the  collective  brain  has  an  animus  like  the  in- 
dividual. And  like  the  individual  it  has  its  decline ;  and  also  its 
better  successors,  which  are  the  appointed  angels  of  time. 

These,  however,  are  the  animal  brains  of  societies,  receiving  and 
transmitting  the  rush  of  destiny  as  it  tramples  through  the  chaos  of 
the  worlds.  But  another  brain,  with  power  over  fate,  is  set  above 
us  as  our  social  sun.  For  a  firmamental  organism  of  Prophecy  and 
Revelation  overarches  the  weltering  centuries,  and  sends  down  spirit 
and  divine  light  to  the  nations  and  races  of  the  intellectual  clime. 
Openness  and  circulation  here  are  religions  and  adorations  :  the 
pressure  of  the  life  comes  manifestly  from  above :  as  there  is  a  God 
and  Lord,  it  comes  punctually  to  our  wants,  and  the  clank  of  our 
dire  necessity  is  His  mercy  heard  in  terrestrial  echoes ;  the  sighs 
and  heavings  of  mankind  coincide  with  the  birth  of  larger  souls  and 
societies,  and  with  the  advent  of  fresh  dispensations. 


DESCRIPTION.  83 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 


Human  life  is  illustrated  by  every  organ  of  the  body.  Each 
contributes  a  share  to  the  general  vitality.  The  brains  are  as  the 
tranquil  inward  respiring  of  existence  elevated  into  mind;  a  life 
which  seems  immaterial  and  motionless,  until  from  the  opened  head 
the  capacities  of  organization  come  to  light,  and  the  brain  demon- 
strates that  our  noblest  powers  are  incarnate,  real  and  progressive. 
That  which  is  the  secret  of  the  brains  is  the  open  lesson  of  the 
lungs.  They  live  physically  and  largely  the  same  life  which  the 
brains  live  metaphysically  and  most  minutely.  In  the  running 
wheel  of  life  the  imperceptible  motion  of  the  axle  is  thought;  the 
sweep  at  the  periphery  is  respiration.  The  brains  give  us  the  free 
principles  of  life,  and  the  lungs,  its  free  play  in  nature. 

It  is  this  idea  of  the  play  of  life  which  is  the  principal  point  in 
our  first  knowledge  of  the  lungs :  it  is  in  the  completion  of  this 
idea  that  we  must  endeavor  to  bring  out  their  functions.  Of  all  the 
internal  organs,  not  excepting  the  heart,  the  lungs  move  the  most 
evidently.  And  as  they  are  the  plainest  engines  in  our  frames,  we 
must,  in  that  inevitable  way  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  rea- 
son perforce  from  them  to  other  parts,  which  also  are  engines, 
though  more  difficult  to  exhibit  at  work. 

The  nose  and  mouth  are  the  two  doors  which  open  inwards  to- 
wards the  lungs ;  the  nose  being  the  special  entrance  to  the  chest, 
and  the  mouth,  common  to  the  chest  and  abdomen.  The  inner 
door  leading  to  the  lungs  is  the  fissure  of  the  glottis,  which  opens 
directly  into  the  larynx,  a  cartilaginous  box  fitted  up  with  muscles, 
membranes,  and  other  appliances  requisite  for  the  articulation  of 
sound.  The  larynx  terminates  in  the  windpipe  or  trachea,  a  pipe 
extending  from  below  the  middle  of  the  neck  to  opposite  the  third 


84  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

vertebra  of  the  back,  where  it  divides  into  two  tubes  termed  the 
bronchi.  The  trachea,  the  trunk  of  the  windpipe,  consists  of  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  fibro-cartilaginous  rings,  which,  however,  do  not 
form  complete  circles,  being  deficient  at  the  back  part,  where  the 
tube  is  completed  by  a  strong  membrane.  These  rings,  like  little 
ribs,  are  separated  from,  or  connected  with,  each  other  by  strong 
elastic  membrane,  so  that  first  there  is  the  membrane,  then  a  ring; 
then  again  the  membrane,  then  a  ring;  and  so  forth.  The  trachea 
is  lined  on  the  inside  by  a  soft  membrane  continued  from  that  of 
the  mouth.  It  is  the  great  stem  which  bears  the  ramifications  of 
the  lungs. 

The  two  large  branches  of  the  trachea,  the  first  bronchial  tubes, 
run  on  each  side  to  the  lungs.  On  arriving  thither,  each  divides 
into  two  smaller  branches,  and  the  subdivision  continues,  of  each 
little  branch  into  two  twigs,  and  of  each  twig  into  lesser  twigs,  un- 
til at  the  last  division  the  air  cells  terminate  the  tubes.  These  air 
cells  are  minute  hollow  chambers  or  vesicles,  which  hang  like  glo- 
bules or  grapes  from  the  ends  of  the  bronchia,  and  the  air  passes 
into  them  with  every  breath  we  draw,  and  is  expelled  from  them 
more  or  less  completely  during  each  expiration.  They  form  the 
characteristic  element  of  the  lungs,  which  are  themselves  nothing- 
more  than  a  vast,  manifold  and  corroborated  air  cell.  The  amount 
of  surface  exposed  by  the  cells  is  very  great. 

The  whole  of  the  constituents  of  the  trachea  exist  virtually,  in 
function  and  principle,  in  the  smallest  elements  of  the  lungs,  and 
the  trachea  with  the  lungs  is  a  goodly  diagram  of  the  minutest 
bronchial  twig  with  its  delicate  air  cell.  In  the  grand  consistency 
of  nature,  the  parts  belong  to  the  whole,  and  vice  versa,  the  mass 
being  a  spontaneous  association  of  myriads  of  equally  integral  and 
so  far  independent  structures. 

We  have  now  drawn  an  outline  of  the  pulmonic  tree.  Its  roots 
are  the  nose  and  mouth  extending  into  the  atmospheres;  its  boss  is 
the  larynx;  its  shaft  the  trachea;  its  first  two  branches  are  the 
bronchia;  its  other  branches,  twigs,  and  fruits  are  collectively  the 
lungs;  the  fruits  or  air  cells,  however,  are  the  lungs  especially  and 
essentially. 

All  the  organs  of  the  body  are  supplied  by  arteries  carrying  vivid 


DESCRIPTION.  85 

blood,  and  the  lungs  are  nourished  by  the  bronchial  arteries,  which, 
running  alongside  the  bronchi,  form  an  arterial  tree  corresponding, 
in  some  measure,  with  their  ramifications;  the  blood  of  the  bron- 
chial arteries  being  brought  back  out  of  the  lungs  into  the  circula- 
tion by  the  bronchial  veins,  which  again  form  an  inverse  system  of 
twigs,  branches,  and  trunks,  answering  to  that  of  the  bronchial  ar- 
teries.    The  bronchial  vessels  are  of  small  calibre. 

Besides  these  there  are  the  pulmonary  artery  and  veins,  the  for- 
mer a  very  large  vessel,  which,  coming  direct  by  a  single  trunk  from 
the  venous  side  of  the  heart,  accompanies  the  bronchia,  and  splitting 
into  finer  and  finer  ramifications,  forms  at  last  a  "  wonderful  net- 
work" of  blood-vessels  around  the  air  cells,  the  blood  in  which  is  se- 
parated from  the  air  only  by  a  membrane  of  extreme  thinness.  From 
the  air  cells  this  network  reunites  from  twigs  into  branches,  and 
from  branches  into  the  four  trunks  of  the  pulmonary  veins,  which 
pour  the  arterialized  blood  direct  into  the  left  side  of  the  heart. 
Thus,  the  lungs  are  like  forests  of  blood  trees,  the  air  cells  being 
open  spaces  between,  whereby  the  atmosphere  is  admitted  to  nourish 
and  ventilate  them;  one  set  of  trees,  dull  and  venous,  representing 
the  blood  before  the  ventilation,  the  other  set  blooming  and  arterial, 
representing  the  beauty  and  flower  which  succeeds  where  the  vernal 
air  has  blown.  This  turn  from  autumn  to  organic  spring  is  mo- 
mentaneous  in  the  lungs,  which  may  not  inaptly  be  compared  to  trees, 
inasmuch  as  leaves  are  the  lungs  of  plants,  and  the  vegetable  king- 
dom, transmuting  the  earth  and  the  atmosphere,  belongs  to  the  lung- 
department  of  material  nature. 

The  lungs,  like  the  other  important  organs,  have  a  plentiful  supply 
of  nerves,  which  coming  from  both  the  cerebral  and  sympathetic 
systems,  pursue  the  bronchia  to  the  air  cells. 

The  parts  enumerated  make  up  the  active  constituents  of  the 
lungs.  In  recapitulation,  they  are  the  tree  of  the  air  tubes,  four 
other  arterial  and  venous  trees,  and  a  nervous  tree,  terminating 
around  and  within  the  air  tubes.  All  these  are  compacted  by  a 
system  of  membranes  or  skins,  which  make  of  the  lungs  not  a  five- 
fold or  sixfold  system  of  trunks,  boughs,  branches  and  twigs,  but 
one  solid  though  distinctly  lobulated  organ. 

These  membranes  may  be  generalized  under  the  name  of  the 
8 


86  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

pleura,  including  under  that  title  all  the  cellular  tissue  which  is 
directly  continuous  with  the  pleura.  This  pleura  is  a  skin  envelop- 
ing each  lung;  the  cellular  tissue  is  a  web  of  skins  that  dips  down 
into  the  substance  of  the  lungs,  and  separates  stem  from  stem, 
bough  from  bough,  branch  from  branch,  and  twig  from  twig  ;  at 
once  dividing  the  parts  from  each  other,  and  uniting  them  into  a 
common  body.  The  cellular  tissue  is  therefore  the  bed  in  which 
the  several  parts  of  the  lungs  are  planted.  As  it  runs  between  the 
parts,  and  makes  them  into  aggregate  portions,  or  lobes  and  little 
lobes,  it  is  sometimes  called  the  interlobular  tissue. 

The  lungs  which  we  have  thus  endeavored  to  construct,  are  two 
conical  organs,  filling,  with  the  heart,  the  cavity  of  the  chest.  They 
correspond  in  shape  with  the  inside  of  the  chest,  and  press  below 
upon  the  diaphragm.  The  pleura  which  covers  them,  contracts  and 
dilates  with  every  respiration,  and  maintains  its  spring  during  life. 
The  elasticity  of  this  serous  membrane  is  an  indication  that  where 
serous  membranes  are  present,  as  for  instance  over  the  brain,  and 
over  the  abdominal  viscera,  a  similar  elasticity  is  intended,  or  an  ex- 
pansile and  contractile  motion  like  breathing  is  performed. 

The  chest,  in  which  the  lungs  are  placed,  is  a  conical  box,  move- 
able in  its  parts,  and  capable  not  only  of  dilatation  and  contraction, 
but  of  infinite  variations  of  shape,  ylt  harmonizes  with  the  lungs 
in  their  movements,  forming  with  them  but  one  machine,  so  that  it' 
is  indifferent  whether  we  say  that  we  breathe  with  the  lungs  or  with 
the  chest.  In  good  health,  when  consent  between  the  two  is  per- 
fect, the  bones  and  muscles  of  the  ribs  are  of  no  heaviness  in  func- 
tion, but  rock  and  swim  upon  the  lungs.  Thus  when  we  speak  of 
the  lungs  in  the  sequel,  we  imply  the  whole  engine  of  breathing 
even  to  the  skin,  and  regard  the  chest  itself  as  a  dress  or  membrane 
inseparable  from  the  lung-principle. 

Inspiration,  or  the  drawing  in  of  the  breath,  is  caused  by  certain 
muscles  drawing  out  the  walls  of  the  chest,  and  enlarging  its  inward 
cavity,  in  which  case  the  pressure  of  the  external  column  of  atmos- 
phere causes  the  air  to  rush  down  into  the  windpipe  and  fill  the 
lungs,  which  then  enlarge  to  fill  the  cavity  of  the  chest.  Expira- 
tion or  breathing  out  depends  upon  the  relaxation  of  the  muscles 
and  the  resiliency  of  the  parts  of  the  chest,  as  well  as  upon  the  elasti- 


ONENESS   OP  THE  LUNGS  AND  CHEST.  87 

city  and  contractility  of  the  lungs  themselves.  Thus  the  force  of 
the  diaphragm  and  of  the  muscles  between  the  ribs  engenders  inspi- 
ration, and  overcomes  the  elasticity  of  the  lungs ;  the  elastic  power 
of  the  lungs  produces  expiration.  The  prolonged  alternation  of 
these  two  forces  is  "  a  contest  in  which  victory  declaring  on  one 
side,  or  the  other,  is  [under  ordinary  circumstances]  the  instant 
death  of  the  fabric." 

In  the  act  of  breathing  we  notice  four  divisions,  each  of  import- 
ance to  our  sequel.  First,  inspiration ;  secondly,  a  pause  which 
ensues  when  the  inspiration  is  completed;  thirdly,  expiration;  and 
fourthly,  a  pause  when  the  expiration  ends ;  after  which  inspiration 
again  occurs,  and  the  same  course  is  measured.  Inspiration  rises  to 
a  certain  level,  and  there  rests  for  a  time ;  expiration  descends  also 
to  its  level,  and  registers  it  by  a  pause.  Further,  the  inspiration 
may  either  take  place  continuously  in  one  long  breath,  or  by  several 
smaller  inhalations  and  pauses;  the  expiration  likewise  may  either 
proceed  without  a  stop,  or  it  may  be  divided  into  several  levels  of 
exhalation,  each  with  its  own  proper  pause. 

But  let  us  come  to  the  use  of  respiration,  or  the  benefits  of  breath- 
ing. These  are  twofold:  1.  The  use  of  the  air  drawn  in,  towards 
the  renovation  of  the  blood,  and  of  the  air  emitted,  towards  its  puri- 
fication. 2.  The  mechanical  effect  of  the  breathing  upon  the  circu- 
lation and  the  body  generally.  We  speak  first  of  the  first  of  these 
uses,  because  of  the  exclusive  importance  usually  attached  to  it. 

The  result  of  investigations  on  this  subject  need  detain  us  but  a 
short  time.  It  is  in  substance  this — that  when  the  air  is  breathed 
in,  the  expanded  network  of  capillaries  besetting  the  air  cells  absorb 
from  it  oxygen  into  the  blood,  and  at  the  same  time  pour  forth  car- 
bonic acid  gas  from  the  blood,  which  is  carried  out  of  the  system  by 
the  air  leaving  the  lungs.  In  consequence  of  these  two  changes,  the 
reception  of  oxygen  and  the  expulsion  of  carbonic  acid,  the  altera- 
tion of  the  blood  from  dark  venous  to  florid  arterial  in  the  air  cells, 
is  accounted  for. 

These  changes,  authors  tell  us,  are  purely  chemical,  and  the  same 
as  happen  to  venous  blood  out  of  the  body.  We  rejoin,  however, 
that  this  theory  is  out  of  place,  being  chemical  and  not  organic.  It 
deals  only  with  what  is  external  to  the  body.     The  air  of  inspira- 


8Q  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

tion  is  on  the  way  in,  and  the  air  of  expiration  is  on  the  way  out, 
but  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  a  part  of  the  living  frame ;  how- 
ever deep  either  may  be  in  the  passages  of  the  body,  still  it  is  not 
indoors.  The  lining  membrane  or  wall  of  the  cell  is  the  partition 
between  life  and  death ;  inside  the  cell  is  vitality,  outside  of  it, 
dead  nature  :  within  it,  the  man  lives ;  without  it,  the  universe  envi- 
rons him :  the  oxygen  which  is  lost  is  missed  from  the  outside,  and 
the  carbonic  acid  which  is  found  is  on  the  outside  also ;  but  on  the 
inside  no  corresponding  observation  has  been  made,  or  can  be  made  ; 
and  it  is  a  questionable  inference  whether  carbonic  acid,  as  such, 
exists  in  the  blood,  or  whether  oxygen,  as  such,  is  there  either.  As 
an  account  of  the  food  of  the  blood,  and  of  the  excrements  of  the 
blood,  both  external  to  the  man,  the  chemical  report  is  valid,  but  is 
it  a  satisfactory  statement  of  any  changes  in  the  blood  itself  circu- 
>.  lating  in  the  system?  Assuredly  not;  and  let  us  here  remark  that 
the  terms  of  every  subject  should  be  in  keeping  with  the  subject  ; 
the  things  which  are  life's  should  be  rendered  to  life,  and  those  of 
chemistry  to  chemistry.  We  cannot  judge  of  the  living,  either  by 
the  raw  material  which  they  pasture  from  the  world,  or  by  the  re- 
fuse which  they  leave  behind  them;  or  even  by  both  together. 
Organization  is  the  one  fact  in  organization;  chemistry  disappears 
into  it,  and  is  seen  no  more  as  chemistry.  The  blood,  as  an  organic 
creature,  into  which  all  thiags  stream,  and  from  which  the  body 
issues  as  the  work  of  works,  is  the  sole  reality  in  our  veins ;  it  is  as 
blood  alone  that  its  elements  come  before  us.  As  well  regard  all 
heroic  actions  as  instances  of  muscular  exertion,  and  these  as  powers 
of  lever  and  fulcrum,  and  other  produce  of  mechanics,  and  not  con- 
nect them  with  the  fountains  of  human  nature,  as  make  the  living 
union  of  all  things  in  the  blood  into  a  congeries  of  chemical  sub- 
stances. Chemical  indeed  they  are  when  they  die  and  are  experi- 
mented on,  but  chemical  is  not  their  name  while  they  are  part  and 
parcel  of  our  human  blood.  They  must  be  addressed  in  the  language 
proper  to  organic  life,  or  the  keeping  of  their  science  will  be  violated 
irretrievably. 

We  the  more  insist  upon  this,  because  by  a  very  natural  insur- 
gency, chemistry  has  of  late  years  been  pushing  what  are  called  its 
conquests  into  the  domain   of  physiology.     But  physiology  has  to 


CHEMISTRY.  89 

consider  the  organic  characters  of  things,  whether  animal  or  vegeta- 
ble; chemistry,  their  inorganic  or  mineral  elements.  This  is  a  broad 
distinction,  and  easy  to  apply.  We  would  not  rescind  one  chemi- 
cal experiment,  or  deny  the  value  of  one  fact  therefrom  resulting ; 
but  we  protest  against  the  logic  of  reasoning  from  chemistry  to  phy- 
siology; from  bricks  to  architecture;  from  neutral  matter  to  forms 
shapen  for  particular  purposes,  and  with  qualities  that  constitute 
their  point,  and  their  very  existence. 

At  the  same  time  there  is  no  objection  to  regard  life  as  a  fire, 
and  the  chest  as  one  of  its  principal  grates  ;  the  fuel  being  the  blood, 
and  the  draught,  the  fresh  air  of  the  lungs.  In  proportion  as  the 
outward  world  is  cold,  this  lung-fire  must  be  kept  up  by  more  in- 
flammable materials,  just  as  larger  coals  and  logs  are  in  use  in  De- 
cember than  in  May.  And  moreover  in  proportion  to  the  size  of 
the  fire  is  the  quantity  of  smoke  or  carbonic  acid  disengaged  from 
the  system.  All  this  is  safe  analogy  and  good  experiment.  But 
let  us  not  be  deceived  into  regarding  this  as  animal  heat:  it  is  as 
purely  mineral  heat — this  presumed  "  combustion"  of  carbon  and 
fat — as  the  heat  in  an  ordinary  stove.  Animal  heat  is  that  which 
warms  life,  or  inflames  the  animal,  as  such.  Its  burnings  are  desires, 
the  flames  of  animal  existence.  These  are  kindled  by  their  appro- 
priate objects.  The  universal  animal  heat  of  the  body  is  the  or- 
ganic zeal  or  love  of  self-preservation  hotly  present  in  every  part. 
This  is  the  origin  of  hunger  and  thirst,  which  tend  to  continue  bodi- 
ly life,  and  lay  the  world  under  contribution,  not  despising  even  its 
mineral  fire.  There  are  different  orders  of  fire;  even  in  nature  there 
is  a  substratum  of  heat  of  which  we  make  all  our  fires.  And  so  in 
the  body  there  is  an  animal  heat  which  lies  at  the  basis  of  human 
warmth,  even  when  the  temperature  can  be  fully  accounted  for  by 
the  "  combustion"  of  the  food.  Take  the  sun  out  of  nature,  and 
the  numbed  flints  will  have  lost  their  sparks;  and  take  the  soul  out 
of  the  body,  and  you  may  indeed  roast  it  or  boil  it,  but  cannot  warm 
it  with  one  ray  of  "animal  heat." 

Moreover  there  are  several  kinds  of  chemistry.  The  present 
chemical  sciences  are  of  the  mineral  degree,  although  their  higher 
branches  are  indeed  mineral-vegetable  and  mineral-animal.  But 
there  is  no  such  science  yet  as  either  vegetable  or  animal  chemistry. 

8* 


90  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

Mineral  chemistry  teaches  the  composition  of  mineral  substances  by 
analysis  and  synthesis.  It  makes  minerals  by  mixing  together  their 
components  under  favorable  conditions.  In  like  manner  vegetable 
chemistry  makes  plants,  and  animal  chemistry  makes  animals.  Na«- 
ture  does  this,  and  so  far  nature  is  the  only  vegetable  and  animal 
chemist.  But  though  we  cannot  produce  in  her  laboratory  scien- 
tifically, but  only  blindly,  we  can  observe  her  processes  and  learn  the 
results.  For  example,  the  mixture  of  sexes  produces  animals,  and 
in  a  certain  sense  plants  also.  The  mixture  of  breeds  varies  these 
substances,  namely,  animals,  and  creates  new  compounds  or  animal 
varieties.  The  mixture  of  opinions  produces  ideas,  and  then  we 
have  intellectual  chemistry.  The  present  is  distilled  out  of  the  past 
by  the  same  law.  Chemistry  then  is  the  mineral  term.  Raise  it  a 
step  into  the  vegetable,  and  in  plants  it  becomes  propagation ;  into 
the  animal,  and  it  becomes  generation :  and  so  forth.  This  of  syn- 
thetical or  creative  chemistry.  The  terms  alter  as  the  theatre 
changes.  But  to  run  one  term  through  all  the  stages,  is  to  miss 
the  essence  of  all  but  the  lowest.  When  science  does  this,  it  not 
only  finds  "  sermons  in  stones,"  but  is  petrified  by  their  discourses. 
Dwelling  therefore  briefly,  and  under  physiological  protest,  upon 
the  oxygen  and  carbonic  acid  disengaged,  or  absorbed,  during  respi- 
ration, we  proceed  to  remark,  that  the  whole  of  the  venous  blood  of 
the  body,  which  is  comparatively  exhausted  by  its  circulation,  and 
also  the  whole  of  the  new  chyle  or  realized  essence  of  the  food,  passes 
by  the  pulmonary  artery  to  the  networks  of  minute  blood-vessels 
in  their  air  cells,  and  so  through  the  lungs,  and  in  those  fine  vessels 
is  counted  out  and  thoroughly  sifted,  and  its  purification  takes  place. 
Whatever  disabled  portions  it  contains,  are  there  taken  to  pieces, 
their  broken  elements  thrown  awa}^  and  the  sound  reconstituted. 
Whatever  injuries  the  blood  may  have  received  from  the  passions 
of  the  mind,  which  as  we  know  have  all  power  to  bless  or  to  hurt  it, 
are  palliated  by  the  removal  of  clouds  of  exhalations,  as  witness  the 
odor  of  the  breath.  When  the  fire  of  life  burns  dark  and  fuligi- 
nous, the  windpipe  is  as  the  chimney  that  relieves  the  body  of  its 
noxious  smoke.  Moreover,  whatever  crudities  or  superfluities  the 
new  chyle,  or  the  milky  produce  of  our  food,  may  contain,  are  expelled 
by  the  lungs  through  the  same  channel.    In  short,  the  lungs  are  the 


PHYSICAL  ACTIONS  OF  THE  LUNGS.  91 

general  strainers  and  cleansers  of  the  blood.  Globule  by  globule 
they  discuss  its  problems,  separate  its  truths  from  its  errors  and  its 
dead  from  its  living,  and  hold  it  to  its  brief  but  energetic  trials  for 
purification  and  the  consequences  which  follow. 

Let  us  now  turn  from  the  act  of  expiration,  from  the  air  "  laden 
like  a  mule,"  as  has  been  aptly  said,  "with  a  burden  and  baggage 
of  adulterations,  and  forced  to  carry  them  out,"  to  inspiration — to 
the  newly-arriving  air,  the  provision  for  supporting,  and  the  blast 
for  rekindling,  the  blood.  And  let  us  spend  a  moment  upon  the 
admirable  means  of  nature  for  managing  this  very  air,  and  present- 
ing it  to  the  blood  in  the  last  place,  clear,  genial,  and  warm.  First 
the  nose,  as  the  administrator  of  the  sense  of  smell,  takes  cogni- 
zance of  any  odorous  or  stimulating  properties  in  the  atmosphere, 
and  acts  accordingly ;  if  pure,  sweet,  and  fragrant,  it  draws  in  the 
air  by  volumes,  inspiring  confidence  and  openness  down  to  the  very 
air  cells  :  if  manifestly  noxious  or  impure,  the  nose  closes  in  propor- 
tion, extemporizes  a  thousand  valves  that  keep  out  the  baser  parti- 
cles, and  the  air  is  driven  against  the  sides  of  the  passage,  all  the 
way  to  the  same  cells,  its  uncleanly  accompaniments  being  caught 
in  a  viscid  snarework  all  down  the  tube :  it  also  gives  notice  to  the 
mouth,  whose  mucus  catches  its  share  of  effluvia,  which  are  rejected 
by  the  shortest  way.  The  mucus  of  these  passages  performs  an  im- 
portant use,  detaining  clouds  of  particles  which  are  unworthy  to  pass 
inwards,  and  this  operation  increases  in  strictness  the  further  the  air 
advances  in  the  narrowing  tubes.  Consequently  when  it  arrives  in 
the  cells,  it  is  clothed  with  kindly  vapors  issuing  from  the  body,  has 
caught  the  tincture  of  the  living  heat,  and  is  in  fine  unison  with 
the  blood.  And  the  blood  has  no  sooner  sniffed  it  well,  than  it  again 
becomes  auroral  and  arterial.  Immediately  that  this  is  accomplished, 
the  air,  exhausted  for  this  primary  use,  is  spent,  as  we  saw  before, 
upon  the  secondary  and  servile  use,  of  undertaking  and  carrying 
forth  the  dead  exhalations. 

The  blood  that  comes  up  to  meet  the  air  is  all  the  blood  in  the 
body,  for  after  circulating,  it  all  requires  refreshment  or  purification. 
It  is  carried  into  the  lungs  through  the  trunk  of  the  pulmonary 
artery.  But  we  mentioned  another  artery,  the  bronchial,  which 
performs  an  office  in  the  lungs.     The  old,  exhausted  and  impure 


92  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

blood  is  conveyed  in  the  pulmonary  vessel;  the  blood  which  is  pure 
and  young  as  the  heart  can  make  it,  runs  parallel  with  the  former 
in  the  bronchial.  The  pulmonary  blood  is  to  become  regenerate  in 
the  lungs ;  the  bronchial  is  the  running  model  of  its  future  state, 
and  exercises  a  contagion  of  youth  upon  its  pulmonary  associate. 
For  nature  never  prescribes  an  end,  without  showing  a  present 
example  of  it. 

The  air  ministers  to  the  blood  an  infinity  of  fine  endowments 
which  chemistry  does  not  appreciate.  How  full  it  is  of  odors  and 
iufluences  that  other  animals,  if  not  man,  discern,  and  which  in 
certain  states  of  disease  and  over-susceptibility,  become  sensible  to 
all :  moreover  at  particular  seasons  all  fertile  countries  are  bathed 
in  the  fragrance  shaken  from  their  vegetable  robes.  Is  it  conceiv- 
able that  this  aroma  of  four  continents  emanating  from  the  life  of 
plants  has  no  communication  with  our  impressible  blood  ?  Is  it 
reasonable  to  regard  it  as  an  accidental  portion  of  the  atmosphere  ? 
Is  it  not  certain  that  each  spring  and  season  is  a  force  which  is 
propagated  onwards;  that  the  orderly  supply,  according  to  the 
months,  of  these  subtlest  dainties  of  the  sense,  corresponds  to  fixed 
conditions  of  the  atmospheric  and  imponderable  world  adequate  to 
receive  and  contain  them ;  that  the  skies  are  the  medium  and 
market  of  the  kingdoms,  whither  life  resorts  with  its  lungs,  to 
buy ;  that  therefore  the  winds  are  cases  of  odors  ;  and  that  distinct 
aromas,  obeying  the  laws  of  time  and  place,  conform  also  to  other 
laws,  and  are  not  lost,  but  are  drawn  and  appreciated  by  our  blood. 
Nay  more,  that  there  is  an  incessant  economy  of  the  breath  and 
emanations  of  men  and  animals,  and  that  these  are  a  permanent 
company  and  animal  kingdom  in  the  air.  It  is  indeed  no  matter 
of  doubt,  that  the  air  is  a  product  elaborated  from  all  the  king- 
doms ;  that  the  seasons  are  its  education ;  that  spring  begins  and 
sows  it ;  that  summer  puts  in  the  airy  flowers  and  autumn  the  airy 
fruits,  which  close-fisted  winter  shuts  up  ripe  in  wind  granaries  for 
the  use  of  lungs  and  their  dependent  forms.  Thus  it  is  passed 
through  the  fingers  of  every  herb  and  growing  thing,  and  each  en- 
riches its  clear  shining  tissue  with  a  division  of  labor,  and  a  succes- 
sion of  touches,  at  least  as  great  as  goes  to  the  manufacture  of  a 
pin.     Whosoever  then  looks  upon  air  as  one  unvaried  thing,  is  like 


THE  WEALTH  OF  THE  AIR.  93 

the  infant  to  whom  all  animals  are  a  repetition  of  the  fireside  cat ; 
or  like  a  dreamer  playing  with  the  words  animal  kingdom,  vegetable 
kingdom,  atmosphere,  and  so  forth  ;  and  forgetting  that  each  com- 
prises many  genera,  innumerable  species,  and  individuals  many 
times  innumerable.  From  such  a  vague  idea,  we  form  no  estimate 
of  the  harmony  of  the  air  with  the  blood  in  its  myriad-fold  consti- 
tution. The  earth  might  as  well  be  bare  granite,  and  the  atmo- 
sphere, untinctured  gas,  if  the  vegetable  kingdom  has  no  organic 
products  to  bestow  through  the  medium  of  the  air,  upon  the  lungs 
of  animal  tribes.  Failing  all  analysis,  we  are  bound  to  believe, 
that  the  atmosphere  varies  by  a  fixed  order  parallel  with  that  of  the 
seasons  and  climates ;  that  aromas  themselves  are  abiding  continents 
and  kingdoms ;  and  that  the  air  is  a  cellarage  of  aerial  wines,  the 
heaven  of  the  spirits  of  the  plants  and  flowers,  which  are  safely 
kept  in  it,  without  destruction  or  random  mixture,  until  they  are 
called  for  by  the  lungs  and  skin  of  the  animate  tribes.  Fact  shows 
this  past  all  destructive  analysis.  It  is  also  evident  that  accumula- 
tion gees  on  in  this  kind,  and  that  the  atmosphere  like  the  soil 
alters  in  its  vegetable  depth,  and  grows  richer  or  poorer  from  age  to 
age  in  proportion  to  cultivation.  The  progress  of  mankind  would 
be  impossible,  if  the  winds  did  not  go  with  them.  Therefore  not 
rejecting  the  oxygen  formula,  we  subordinate  it  to  the  broad  fact 
of  the  reception  by  the  atmosphere  of  the  choicest  produce  of  the 
year,  and  we  regard  the  oxygen  more  as  the  minimum  which  is 
provided  even  in  the  sandy  wilderness,  or  rather  as  the  crockery 
upon  which  the  dinner  is  eaten,  than  as  the  repast  that  hospitable 
nature  intends  for  the  living  blood  in  the  lungs.  The  assumption 
that  the  oxygen  is  the  all,  would  be  tolerable  only  in  some  Esqui- 
maux philosopher,  in  the  place  and  time  of  thick -ribbed  ice;  there 
is  something  too  ungrateful  in  it  for  the  inhabitant  of  any  land 
whose  fields  are  fresh  services  of  fragrance  from  county  to  county, 
and  from  year  to  year.  Chemistry  itself  wants  a  change  of  air,  a 
breath  of  the  liberal  landscape,  when  it  would  limit  us  to  such 
prison  diet. 

Here,  however,  is  a  science  to  be  undertaken;  the  study  of  the 
atmosphere  by  the  earth  which  it  repeats ;  of  the  mosaic  pillars  of 
the  landscape  and  climate  in  the  crystal  sky :  of  the  map  of  the 


94  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

scented  and  tinted  winds;  and  the  tracing  of  the  virtues  of  the 
ground,  through  exhalation  and  aroma,  property  by  property,  into 
the  lungs  and  the  circulating  blood.  For  the  physical  man  himself 
is  the  builded  aroma  of  the  world.  This,  then,  at  least,  is  the 
office  of  the  lungs — to  drink  the  atmosphere  with  the  planet  dis- 
solved in  it.  And  a  physiological  chemistry  with  no  crucible  but 
brains  must  arise,  and  be  pushed  to  the  ends  of  the  air,  before  we 
can  know  what  we  take  when  we  breathe,  or  what  is  the  import  of 
change  of  air,  and  how  each  pair  of  lungs  has  a  native  air  under 
some  one  dome  of  the  sky ;  for  these  phrases  are  old  and  conse- 
quently new  truths. 

We  notice,  indeed,  a  great  difference  in  the  manner  of  the  lungs 
to  the  different  seasons,  for  the  genial  times  of  the  year  cause  the 
lungs  to  open  to  an  unwonted  depth.  The  breaths  that  we  draw  in 
the  summer  fields,  rich  with  the  sweets  of  verdure  and  bloom,  are 
deeper  than  those  that  we  take  perforce  on  our  hard  wintry  walks. 
Far  more  emotion  animates  the  lungs  at  these  pleasant  tides.  Nor 
is  this  to  be  wondered  at,  any  more  than  that  we  open  more  freely 
at  a  table  loaded  with  delicacies,  than  at  a  poorly  furnished  board. 
The  endowments  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  in  the  atmosphere  not 
only  feed  us  better  with  aerial  food,  but  also  keep  us  more  open  and 
more  deeply  moved;  and  we  shall  see  presently  that  the  movement 
of  the  lungs  is  the  wheel  on  which  the  chariot  of  life  runs,  with 
more  or  less  intensity  according  as  the  revolution  is  great  or  small. 
Now  in  summer  it  is  great,  and  in  winter  it  is  small,  for  manifest 
motives.*  Furthermore,  our  noses  themselves,  the  features  of  the 
lungs,  are  in  evidence  that  there  is  more  to  be  met  with  per- 
manently in  the  air  than  inodorous  gases.  For  we  cannot  suppose 
that  scent  ends  organically  where  we  fail  to  perceive  it  with  the 
sense.  But  enough  has  been  said  already  on  the  flavorless  world 
and  noseless  doctrine  of  the  chemists. 


*  In  a  regular  treatise  on  the  chemistry  of  the  lungs,  the  atmosphere  would 
be  separately  considered  in  its  mineral,  vegetable,  animal  and  human  constitu- 
ents, and  in  the  effects  of  these,  as  introduced  through  the  lungs,  upon  the  body 
and  the  mind.  In  this  work,  however,  we  make  no  pretensions  to  treat  the 
subject  according  to  this  larger  order,  though  other  considerations  following  out 
the  above  series  will  be  presented  in  the  sequel. 


THE  LUNG  MOVEMENTS.  95 

This  extension  of  the  subject  has  a  practical  bearing.  The  che- 
mical view  blinds  us  to  the  seeds  of  health  and  disease  contained  in 
the  atmosphere.  We  pound  it  into  oxygen,  hydrogen  and  carbon, 
and  find  its  ruins  pretty  invariable  in  all  places  under  all  circum- 
stances. Plagues  and  fevers  give  a  different  analysis,  and  tell 
another  tale.  They  prove  that  the  air  is  haunted  by  forcible  elements 
that  resist  segregation  and  distillation.  The  strokes  of  these  airy 
legions  are  seen,  though  the  destroyers  themselves  are  invisible.  In 
the  atmosphere  as  a  place  of  retribution,  the  cleanness  or  unclean- 
ness  of  the  ground  and  the  people  is  animated  by  ever  wandering 
powers,  which  raise  cleanliness  into  health,  and  filth  into  pestilence, 
and  dispense  them  downwards  according  to  desert  with  an  unerring 
award.  But  who  could  guess  this  from  the  destructive  analysis 
into  oxygen,  hydrogen  and  carbon  ;  which  misses  out  the  great 
shapes  that  stalk  through  the  air,  and  laugh  at  our  bottles  and  re- 
torts often  with  a  diabolic  laugh  ?  But  we  shall  recur  to  this  sub- 
ject when  we  treat  of  Public  Health. 

To  conclude  this  part  of  our  subject,  we  have  seen  that  the  lungs 
raise  the  blood  into  its  principles,  and  discuss  them  on  a  higher 
arena ;  that  they  continually  refresh  and  enlarge  it  by  bringing  it 
into  contact  with  the  outward  world  in  the  shape  of  the  atmosphere, 
where  at  once  it  gives  up  its  antiquities  as  the  free  breath  unlocks  it ; 
that  the  lungs  also  humanize  the  air  as  it  enters,  and  fill  it  with  the 
organic  warmth  and  movements  of  the  nose  and  the  head.  But 
further,  the  blood,  in  passing  into  the  lungs,  is  held  as  it  were  above 
the  body  by  virtue  of  the  lightness  of  the  sphere.  And  not  only 
in  the  lungs  but  everywhere  in  the  system,  the  pulmonic  levity,  or 
the  rise  of  the  surface,  operates  statically  upon  the  fluids ;  so  that 
each  breath  amounts  to  a  posture  or  rather  a  hover  of  the  entire 
capillary  blood  and  nervous  spirit  of  the  body.  This  levity-giving 
is  an  intermediate  function  between  the  aerial  and  motor  offices  of 
the  lungs.     We  shall  speak  of  it  again  at  the  end  of  this  Chapter. 

We  have  now  considered  the  chemical  and  physical  functions  of 
the  lungs,  and  glanced  at  their  statical  office ;  it  remains  to  treat 
the  second  part  of  the  subject,  namely,  the  respiratory  movements, 
or  the  mechanics  and  dynamics  of  the  lungs. 

That  the  effects  of  the  lung  movements  are  not  small,  a  short 


96  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

description  will  convince  us.  Every  time  that  we  draw  in  the  air, 
our  brains  fall,  from  the  venous  blood  being  sucked  out  of  the  head 
to  fill  the  threatened  vacuum  in  the  chest ;  and  when  we  breathe 
out  the  air,  the  brains  rise,  from  the  return  of  the  blood  from  the 
head  to  the  chest  being  impeded.  The  same  also  takes  place  with 
the  heart.  During  inspiration,  the  lungs  breathe  up  the  venous 
blood  into  that  organ,  and  retard  the  passage  of  the  arterial  blood 
from  it ;  during  expiration  they  keep  the  venous  blood  away,  and 
increase  the  onward  impulse  given  to  the  arterial  blood.  So  like- 
wise in  the  belly.  Largely  emptied,  as  it  is  of  venous  blood  in 
inspiration,  and  subject  to  the  movements  of  the  superincumbent 
lungs,  it  necessarily  undergoes  great  motion  during  breathing. 

Now,  that  movements  like  these  have  a  universal  part  to  play,  it 
would  be  idle  to  deny.  They  actuate  the  body  some  fourteen  times, 
or  more,  every  minute  of  our  lives.  If  we  watch  our  neighbor  as 
he  sits  upon  his  chair,  we  see,  not  his  wind  chest  only,  but  the  man 
himself,  expand  and  contract  each  time  he  breathes.  If  we  watch 
the  face,  we  see  a  corresponding  change  :  if  we  lay  the  hand  upon 
the  stomach,  we  feel  it  rise  and  fall  as  plainly  as  the  chest.  And 
common  sense  ordains,  that  in  a  machine  divinely  economic,  the 
use  of  any  motion  is  co-extensive  with  the  motion  itself,  and  if  the 
motion  be  universal,  the  end  it  serves  is  likewise  universal. 

As  we  have  seen,  the  pressure  of  the  atmosphere  distends  the 
lungs  and  produces  inspiration :  the  living  contraction  of  the  lungs 
causes  expiration.  The  result  is,  to  engender  a  power  which 
alternately  stirs  the  frame.  As  a  familiar  instance  of  what  this 
power  is,  I  appeal  to  those  who  have  sat  to  the  sun  for  a  daguerreo- 
type portrait.  You  know  that  the  greatest  stillness  is  needed  to 
bind  down  that  quick  artist  to  the  execution  of  single  portraits ; 
to  make  his  successive  ideas  or  touches  fall  in  identical  lines;  other- 
wise, he  will  paint  you  not  one,  but  a  chaos  of  likenesses,  equal  in 
number  to  your  variations  of  position.  In  the  painfulness  of  your 
anxiety  to  sit  still,  to  suppress  the  breath,  you  find  that  you  are  a 
frame  which  verily  exists  in  motion  j  you  ascertain  what  a  struggle 
it  is  to  combat  your  life's  progress,  to  wrestle  with  the  moving 
lungs.  To  the  fingers'  ends,  to  the  toes'  ends  you  pant  and  swell, 
and  sink  again,  with  irrepressible  heavings ;  and  the  voice  which 


OFFICE  OF  THE  LUNG-MOVEMENTS.  97 

emancipates  you  from  the  effort,  and  bids  you  breathe  as  you 
please,  unobservant  of  the  fact,  is  release  from  a  straitness  which 
could  not  be  long  endured.  The  same  thing  is  experienced  more 
or  less,  whenever  it  is  necessary  to  use  great  stillness,  to  control 
the  breath.  The  consciousness  which  is  then  awakened  comes  into 
collision  with  a  power  whose  resources  we  never  estimate  practically 
but  at  such  times  of  struggle.  Ask  any  of  those  who  have  been 
engaged  in  poses  plastiques,  and  they  will  tell  you  that  of  all  hard 
work,  standing  still  is  among  the  hardest. 

What  becomes  of  the  power  created  by  the  air  falling  with  the 
whole  weight  of  its  column  upon  the  movable  lungs,  and  displacing 
or  expanding  them,  and  by  the  subsequent  living  contraction  of  the 
lungs  ?  Can  we  imagine  that  its  use  is  confined  to  the  outside 
of  the  system  ?  to  the  admission  of  fresh  and  the  expulsion  of  con- 
taminated air  ?  This  would  be  as  reasonable  as  to  suppose  that  the 
main  office  of  a  water  wheel,  connected  with  an  extensive  and  com- 
plicated machinery,  was  confined  to  the  water  which  falls  upon  it, 
and  that  the  mechanical  power  engendered  was  not  communicated 
inwards  to  the  plant.  At  this  rate  nature  would  be  less  thrifty 
than  our  engineers,  who  know  that  power  is  precious,  to  be  husband- 
ed fo  the  last  degree,  conducted  where  it  is  required,  and  never  ex- 
pended without  a  result.  Suppose  that  a  portion  of  the  water  be 
needed  inside  the  mill,  as  is  generally  the  case,  this  is  easily  sup- 
plied by  some  sideward  allowance  of  the  machinery,  or  by  the 
pressure  of  the  water  itself,  which  contains  the  power  in  an  un- 
mechanized  state;  but  the  main  action  is  never  spent  upon  that 
which  comes  of  its  own  accord.  The  blood  is  aerated  in  some  ani- 
mals, and  the  juice  in  plants,  without  any  motion  of  the  lungs, 
which  may  suggest  that  the  aeration  of  the  blood  is  not  the  grand 
office  of  these  movements.  But  in  machineries,  any  motion  which 
is  superabundant,  or  not  turned  to  use,  is  hurtful  to  the  object 
sought,  precisely  because  motion  always  has  effects,  which  in  the 
latter  case  mix  with  the  intended  result,  and  confuse  or  disarrange 
it.  This  applies  more  strongly  to  the  human  frame  than  to  any- 
thing of  man's  making. 

Thus,  we  observe  that  there  are  really  two  questions  which  have 
been  confounded  with  each  other  :  Firstly,  What  is  the  use  of  air 
9 


98  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

to  us?  and  secondly,  What  is  the  use  of 'breathing?  And  with  re- 
spect to  this  second  inquiry,  we  now  see  that  it  will  be  puerile  to 
say  that  we  breathe  in  order  to  breathe.  Let  us  grapple  with  the 
problem,  and  solve  it  otherwise  than  by  a  verbal  retort.  We  an- 
swer, then,  that  the  use  of  breathing  is  to  communicate  motion  to 
the  body,  to  distribute  it  to  the  different  machineries  or  viscera,  to 
enable  them  each  to  go  to  work  according  to  their  powers. 

Our  position  is,  that  the  blood  and  blood-vessels  make  and  repair 
the  organization,  and  keep  it  in  working  trim ;  while  on  the  other 
hand  the  lungs  and  the  brains  use  and  work  it :  like  as  an  engine  is 
made  in  the  factory  by  one  set  of  artisans,  but  is  taken  elsewhere  to 
enlarged  conditions  of  liberty  or  motion,  to  be  worked  by  another 
class  of  persons.  Thus,  the  heart's  fabricative  strokes  are  the  lesser 
motion :  the  experimental  play  and  employment  of  the  lungs  is  the 
greater  motion.  By  the  one  the  hammer  is  plied  upon  the  engine; 
by  the  other,  the  completed  engine  is  made  to  use  its  qualities,  and 
to  work  according  to  its  construction.  Every  body  contains  two 
bodies — the  one  which  is  forming,  and  the  other  which  is  finished 
and  working :  the  heart  is  the  spring  and  centre  of  the  first,  and  the 
lungs  of  the  second ;  the  one  represents  matter,  and  the  other  spirit ; 
and  the  ratio  between  the  pulses  and  the  breaths  gives  the  constant 
equation  which  subsists  between  these  inseparable  two. 

It  needs  but  little  consideration  to  show  that  the  organs  and  viscera 
of  the  body  require  a  supply  of  motion  to  enable  them  to  perform 
their  functions.  These  functions  consist,  firstly,  in  the  reception  of 
a  peculiar  quantity  as  well  as  quality  of  blood,  from  which  they, 
secondly,  are  to  separate  certain  materials,  or  upon  which  they  are 
to  produce  some  change :  the  quantity  and  quality  required  varies 
also  at  different  times.  What  is  it  that  supplies  them  with  this 
peculiar  blood  ?  Not  the  impulse  of  the  heart  and  arteries,  for  this 
could  cause  no  discrimination  in  the  supply  to  different  parts;  on  the 
contrary,  its  action  is  uniform  all  over  the  body.  Each  organ  then 
requires  an  individuality  to  enable  it  to  choose  and  take  what  it  wants 
from  the  common  system.  How  can  this  individual  power  be  given 
to  the  organs,  except  by  their  exercising  a  motion  of  expansion  and 
contraction,  whereby  they  draw  in  or  shut  away  the  blood,  as  they 
find  it  necessary? 


NECESSITY  OF  THE  PULMONARY  MOTION.  99 

But  again,  if  the  organs  are  alive,  the  operations  that  they  per- 
form upon  the  blood  demand  a  general  motion  on  their  part.  If  we 
are  to  regard  them  as  dead  sieves  or  filtering  stones,  then  it  may  be 
sumcient  for  fluid  to  run  into  them,  and  the  various  secretions,  the 
bile,  the  saliva,  &c,  may  drip  through  them  without  any  action  on 
their  part.  The  humanities  and  industries  of  the  inner  man  may 
sit  down  deadly  still,  like  mesmerized  Turks.  But  is  such  a  con- 
ception proper  in  a  body  overrun  by  spirited  nerves,  which  in  pro- 
portion as  they  are  impressed  or  passive  on  the  one  hand,  rise  up  in 
activity  on  the  other  ?  And  if  the  parts  of  the  organs  are  not  only 
passively  but  actively  engaged  in  elaborating  the  various  juices,  must 
not  their  activities  combine  by  a  law  into  one  general  action  or  mo- 
tion common  to  the  whole  organ  ?  Does  not  all  function  in  a  living 
body  imply  motion,  and  is  not  the  sum  of  particular  motions  neces- 
sarily represented  by  an  aggregate  motion  equal  to  all  its  parts? 
Though  his  blood  may  be  circulating,  yet  a  motionless  man  is  a  man 
doing  nothing;  and  a  motionless  organ  is  just  as  ineffectual.  To 
exist  is  one  thing;  to  do  is  another  and  a  further.  In  the  whole  man, 
the  management  of  his  motions  constitutes  his  skill;  in  the  partial 
man  or  the  organ  a  corresponding  management  performs  its  functions. 
Without  precise  means  set  in  real  motion,  you  have  no  art  and  ma- 
nufacture, no  saliva  and  no  bile.  These  latter  are  the  most  mar- 
vellous of  fabrics;  the  body  is  the  most  stupendous  of  factories. 
Our  commonest  thoughts  upon  such  subjects  are  the  way  to  the  best. 
Destruction,  then,  is  in  a  manner  compatible  with  rest,  but  construc- 
tion never. 

The  sap  is  indeed  distributed  in  plants  without  any  apparent  ex- 
pansion and  contraction  of  their  organs,  as  it  were  by  a  magnetic  or 
elective  affinity  between  the  parts  of  the  plant,  and  the  fluids  they 
require.  And  this  election  is,  doubtless,  involved  in  the  animal  also. 
But  then  the  meaning  of  animal  as  contradistinguished  from  vege- 
table, is  motion  as  distinct  from  growth,  or  local  as  different  from 
and  superior  to  molecular  movement.  And  the  several  organs  of 
animals  are  animal  like  the  whole.  No  vegetable  tissue  could  asso- 
ciate in  the  body  of  life,  but  it  would  be  the  sport  of  activities  which 
it  could  not  share  or  reciprocate.  A  liver  that  was  merely  vegetating 
would  be  pressed  to  death  in  a  body  that  is  ceaselessly  animating. 


100  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

Therefore  the  motion  of  the  organs  is  indispensable  to  make  them 
parts  of  the  whole,  or  to  raise  them  into  the  animal  sphere. 

To  return  to  facts,  Ave  find  in  the  motion  of  the  lungs  communi- 
cated to  the  system,  the  very  power  which  the  organs  require.  For 
the  body  is  a  chain  of  substances  and  organs,  whose  connections  are 
so  disposed,  that  motions  communicated  from  within,  vibrate  from 
end  to  end,  and  from  side  to  side,  and  extend  to  the  extremities  of 
the  limbs  before  they  are  absorbed.  And  in  the  intimate  fellowship 
pervading  it,  and  which  is  brought  about  by  the  skin  and  the  mem- 
branes, we  see  the  condition  whereby  a  general  motion,  like  that  of 
the  lungs,  amounts  to  an  attraction  exerted  by  the  frame  and  its 
parts  upon  the  world  without  and  the  world  within;  by  which,  in 
each  different  voluntary  expansion,  it  draws  in  as  it  pleases  the  fluid 
contained  in  its  own  cavities,  as  well  as  whatever  it  requires  from 
the  great  ocean  of  the  atmosphere.  Such  is  the  value  of  the  move- 
ments of  the  lungs.  They  not  only  breathe  themselves,  but  make 
the  body  breathe  similarly  with  them ;  and  in  this  consists  its  life, 
whereby  it  becomes  an  individual,  and  takes  what  it  wants  for  itself, 
suffering  no  intrusion  from  within  or  without,  whether  from  the  blood 
of  the  heart,  or  from  the  pressure  of  the  universe. 

To  follow  the  gear  by  which  the  motion  of  the  lungs  is  commu- 
nicated to  other  organs,  belongs  to  anatomy  and  experiment,  but 
the  general  fact  belongs  to  common  sense,  and  science  has  only  to 
confirm  it.  We  do  not  now  enter  upon  the  anatomy,  but  will  con- 
tent ourselves  with  observing  the  effect  of  the  pulmonary  engine 
upon  the  great  departments  of  the  system.  And  first  for  the  effect 
upon  the  nerves  and  the  brain. 

First,  with  respect  to  the  nerves,  the  motions  of  the  lungs,  occur- 
ring fourteen  times  per  minute,  act  upon  them  more  than  upon  any 
other  part,  because  they  are  the  most  impressible  of  the  organs. 
Now  a  large  portion  of  the  nerves  runs  through  the  chest,  a  space 
subject  to  threatened  vacuum  during  every  breath;  and  more  than 
a  third  part  of  the  spinal  marrow  virtually  lies  open  into  the  same 
exhausting  receiver.  The  plain  consequence  is,  that  the  nerves  and 
the  spinal  marrow  are  expanded  with  each  inspiration.  Either  that 
— or  they  resist  the  inspiration,  and  in  this  case  the  unity  of  the 
body  is  at  an  end.     But  we  cannot  make  the  latter  supposition.     If 


THE  BREATHING  OF  THE  BRAIN.  101 

they  are  expanded  or  enlarged  when  the  lungs  draw  them  out,  of 
course  a  physical  fluid  enters  them  to  fill  the  space  created,  and  tends 
to  fill  the  organs  to  which  they  are  distributed.  In  this  way  the 
nervous  system,  the  focus  of  life,  opens  the  frame  at  the  same  inter- 
vals as  the  lungs,  the  circumference  of  life;  the  lungs  being  simply 
the  want  of  living  fluid,  and  the  nerves  the  corresponding  supply. 
This  is  an  organic  cooperation  between  effect  and  cause,  whereby  the 
highest  purposes  of  the  organization  are  seconded  most  absolutely, 
and  yet  most  freely,  by  the  lowest. 

The  nerves  then  breathe  their  atmosphere,  the  nervous  fluid,  at 
the  same  intervals  as  the  lungs  breathe  theirs,  which  is  the  proper 
atmospheric  fluid,  and  the  breath  of  the  nerves  is  the  life  of  the 
lungs,  as  the  breath  of  the  lungs  is  the  bodily  action  of  the  nerves. 
The  nerves,  however,  are  continuous  with  the  brain,  and  secondly, 
we  observe  that  their  expansion  is  its  expansion.  It  opens,  for  mo- 
tion's purposes,  into  the  chest,  by  the  nerves,  and  by  the  spinal 
marrow ;  the  lungs  have  their  suckers  upon  it  everywhere,  through 
the  membranes  and  the  blood-vessels.  It,  therefore,  breathes  under 
the  attractions  of  the  pulmonic  air-pump.  Like  every  other  part  it 
respires  its  own  thoughts  or  objects.  What  these  are,  it  does  not 
behove  us  to  inquire,  but  we  may  affirm  generally,  that  they  are 
those  fluids  which  are  the  brains  of  the  body  and  outward  universe. 
The  lungs  breathe  that  which  answers  to  lungs  in  nature,  namely, 
the  air.  The  heart  breathes  that  which  is  the  heart's  in  the  system, 
namely,  the  blood  ;  and  each  organ,  as  a  rule,  breathes  its  own  cor- 
responding fluids. 

The  heart,  as  we  have  just  anticipated,  breathes  also  with  the 
lungs,  and  so  manifestly,  that  physiology  already  contains  many 
chapters  upon  the  influence  of  the  respiration  upon  the  circulation. 
The  pulmonary  motions  acting  upon  the  heart  and  great  vessels, 
cause  the  venous  blood  to  return  to  the  heart,  and  somewhat  retard 
the  outgoing  arterial  blood,  during  the  inspirations;  and  vice  versa; 
and  imprint  upon  the  pulse  at  the  fountain-head  the  force  which  is 
destined  to  supplant  the  pulse  where  the  vessels  enter  the  organs. 
By  this  means  the  ultimate  intention  is  intimated  from  the  begin- 
ning; the  blood  in  its  childhood  is  let  into  the  secret  of  its  destiny; 
and  the  sanguineous  system  is  prepared  at  once  for  submission  to 

9* 


102  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

the  brains  and  lungs.  The  lungs  then  inaugurate  the  grand  circu- 
lation into  the  life  and  habitudes  of  the  rational  body,  animating 
the  blood  itself  with  the  moving  spirit  of  the  atmospheres. 

The  belly,  too,  is  in  the  human  conspiracy;  it  would  be  dead  to 
the  rest  if  it  did  not  breathe.  The  abdominal  breath  is  the  most 
physical  of  all,  commanded  by  powerful  muscles,  and  destined  to 
suck  in  that  large  food  upon  which  the  belly  lives,  and  whose  plea- 
sures it  respires.  As  we  have  observed  already,  we  need  only  lay 
the  hand  low  down,  and  we  shall  feel  our  hunger  moving  and  busy 
in  the  workings  of  its  native  cave. 

The  belly,  however,  not  merely  breathes  its  general  atmosphere, 
the  food,  from  the  world  of  food  lying  in  the  stomach  and  intestines, 
but  its  organs  and  viscera  breathe  in  each  their  peculiar  blood,  and 
breathe  out  their  excretions.  For  each  organ  has  a  precise  form 
and  constitution,  and  like  every  other  machine  acts  according  to  its 
construction.  The  power  of  the  great  steam  engine,  the  lungs,  is 
communicated  to  all,  but  each  takes  it  in  its  own  way.  For  exam- 
ple, whpn  the  liver  is  drawn  out  or  breathes,  and  is  filled  with  liver- 
thoughts  and  energies  by  its  roused  nerves,  the  expansion  follows 
its  make  and  texture;  it  is  a  motion  of  the  machinery  of  the  liver; 
and  the  purified  blood  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  bile  on  the  other, 
are  woven  accordingly.  So  when  the  kidney  is  drawn  out  to  act,  it 
is  a  motion  of  the  machinery  of  the  kidney.  The  different  machines 
moving  in  different  ways,  perform  their  functions,  draw  in  their 
blood  and  manufacture  it,  exactly  according  to  their  build,  each 
with  a  difference  from  the  rest.  There  is  no  tyrannous  influence  of 
the  lungs;  their  traction  upon  the  gear  of  the  organs  is  only  the 
power  necessary  to  set  them  to  work,  to  enable  them  to  revolve  in 
their  places,  and  to  put  forth  their  given  genius  for  the  common- 
wealth of  which  they  are  independent  members. 

Each  organ  of  the  body  has,  therefore,  its  own  sphere,  within 
which  it  is  individual.  It  is  true  that  its  force  comes  from  without, 
but  then  it  is  a  force  answering  to  that  which  it  desires  from  within 
by  the  very  nature  of  its  nerves.  It  is,  therefore,  a  rule,  that  the 
blood  is  merely  carried  by  the  heart  and  vessels  to  the  doors  of  the 
organs,  but  is  not  intruded;  for  on  the  threshold  of  the  organs  it 
encounters  another  force,  and  is  drawn  inwards  or  sent  outwards 


THE  BREATHING  OF  TnE  BODY.  103 

only  at  the  times  when  the  organ  draws  it  or  expels  it.  In  a  word, 
at  the  organs  the  jurisdiction  of  the  heart  and  arteries  ceases;  and 
that  of  the  organ  itself  begins. 

To  complete  the  empire  of  the  respiration,  we  notice  that  the 
muscles  and  limbs  breathe  like  the  rest.  During  repose  this  is  more 
difficult  to  show,  but  even  then,  if  we  attend  carefully  to  the  draw 
of  the  expansion  passing  from  the  belly  down  the  legs,  we  shall 
find  that  the  skin  tends  out  in  an  inverse  pyramid  from  the  loins  to 
the  toes  and  heels;  like  trowsers  tight  at  the  bottom,  but  expanding 
and  contracting  above,  and  chiefly  at  the  top.  While,  however,  we 
are  at  rest,  the  respiration  of  the  limbs  is  scarcely  noticeable,  be- 
yond the  parts,  of  the  arms  and  thighs  immediately  contiguous  to 
the  body.  But  when  we  rise  into  motion,  and  the  will  comes  forth, 
the  effect  is  different;  and  in  powerful  volitions  and  actions  a  limb 
of  air  becomes  steel,  runs  rigorously  down  to  our  toes  and  fingers. 
The  skin  is  braced  so  tight,  that  the  muscles  threaten  to  start 
through  it,  and  the  will  in  the  same  manner  menaces  to  bare  itself 
by  throwing  off  the  muscles.  The  clothes  and  the  body  fly  out  like 
concentric  planetary  rings  in  a  rapid  vortex.  The  man  becomes 
more  and  more  of  air;  he  ceases  to  lie,  he  ceases  to  sit,  he  ceases 
to  stand,  and,  like  an  elastic  sphere  bounding  upon  a  point,  the  ball 
of  the  foot  is  his  only  contact  with  the  ground.  This  is  the  extreme 
effect  of  the  aeration  of  his  limbs.  He  has  become  a  bird  for  that 
moment,  and  can  then  fly  through  difficulties,  which  are  the  atmo- 
sphere of  these  great  actions  of  the  lungs. 

The  lungs,  then,  are  consenting  organs  in  muscular  and  gymnas- 
tic efforts,  and  precise  muscles  of  breath  or  spirit  lie  under  the  mus- 
cles of  flesh,  and  lend  them  force,  hardness,  and  sphere  in  their 
operations. 

It  is  also  to  be  remarked,  that  as  inspiration  commences  a  poste- 
riori, or  from  the  muscular  system,  and  as  all  the  muscles  concur 
to  it  more  or  less,  so  the  inspiratory  effort  may  commence  from  any 
part  of  the  frame,  and  the  breathing  will  be  differenced  according 
to  the  part.  In  ordinary  normal  breathing,  the  thoracic  and  inter- 
costal muscles  appear  to  begin  the  act;  but  in  pleurisy  the  centre 
of  operations  is  changed,  the  breathing  becomes  "  abdominal,"  and 
the  action  upon  the  chest  is  secondary.     In  like  manner,  any  mus- 


104  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

cle  of  the  frame  may  take  the  lead  in  initiating  the  action,  for  all 
the  muscles  are  connected  together,  and  tend  instinctively  to  influ- 
ence each  other.  Thus  we  may  have  splenic  breathing,  or  umbilical 
breathing,  or  hepatic  breathing,  according  to  the  part  of  the  surface 
which  begins  the  inspiratory  traction.  Now,  the  spirit  of  any  ac- 
tion is  according  to  its  beginning  in  the  body.  But  this  is  too  im- 
portant a  subject  to  be  discussed  within  our  present  limits. 

It  is  now,  therefore,  evident  that  the  movements  of  the  respira- 
tion are  not  confined  to  the  chest,  but  are  systemic  motions  pervad- 
ing the  head,  body  and  limbs,  and  lying  at  the  basis  of  the  func- 
tions of  the  parts;  and  thus  that  bodily  actions  or  functions  are 
never  created,  but  only  shaped  or  formed  out  of  a  stock  of  motion 
given  in  the  nature  of  things.  Furthermore,  as  habits  are  no 
sooner  engendered  than  they  are  written  upon  the  body,  and  espe- 
cially upon  the  nervous  system,  it  is  plain  that  this  habit  of  recipro- 
cal breathing  is  deeply  inscribed  as  a  second  nature  upon  the  animal 
textures,  and  that  they  tend  to  fall  into  it  upon  the  least  impulse 
given ;  according  to  the  well-known  laws  of  recurrence  in  the  bodily 
frame.  Thus,  on  the  showing  of  facts,  life  may  be  defined  as  the 
progressive  education  of  the  organs  and  viscera  into  habits  of  breath- 
ing which  contradistinguish  them  from  dead  organs. 

What  we  have  said  might  have  been  taken  by  analogy  from  the 
air  as  well  as  from  the  lungs.  For  the  air  also  has  the  three  func- 
tions; a  chemical,  by  which  it  combines  with  other  substances;  a 
statical,  by  which  it  presses  with  so  many  pounds  to  the  square 
inch;  and  a  mechanical,  by  which  it  serves  as  a  motor  force  when- 
ever its  columns  are  displaced  or  its  volume  agitated.  The  lungs, 
as  we  have  now  shown,  correspond  to,  and  make  use  of  the  air  in  all 
these  three  departments.  We  may,  therefore,  resume  in  saying, 
that  the  chemical  powers  of  air  are  chemico-vital  powers  of  lungs, 
and  the  mechanical  powers  of  air,  mechanico-vital  powers  of  lungs. 

We  do  not  forget,  in  these  observations,  that  breathing  commences 
only  at  birth,  and  that  another  order  of  things  prevails  previously. 
But  this  different  state  does  not  contradict  the  views  put  forth. 
Were  this  the  place,  we  might  pursue  the  thread  of  science  into  that 
other  and  attractive  but  mysterious  sphere  of  whose  still  spring  the 
round  of  this  life  jg  but  the  first  expansion.     But  we  must  be  con- 


UNIVERSAL  ATTRACTION.  105 

tent  with  remarking,  that,  during  embryonic  existence,  the  main 
business  is  the  work  of  formation ;  the  body  is  then  upon  the  stocks ; 
and  as  the  blood  first  and  the  heart  afterwards  are  the  builders  of 
the  body,  the  brain  or  nervous  principle  operates  through  them, 
and  its  movements  keep  pace  with  theirs;  but  after  birth,  the  usage 
of  the  body  is  the  main  thing;  the  life  becomes  more  than  the 
meat;  the  body  is  now  to  be  worn  out  in  action;  its  growth  and 
repair  are  secondary,  and  all  with  reference  to  its  employment;  and 
this,  as  we  have  seen,  depends  upon  the  lungs;  wherefore,  in  the 
second  case,  the  brain  shifts  its  patronage  and  alters  its  step,  and 
works  through  and  with  the  lungs.  It  is  what  might  be  expected — 
that  the  brain  should  respire  with  the  heart  in  the  heart-epoch, 
which  anticipates  the  period  of  birth,  but  in  the  epoch  of  the  lungs, 
or  conscious  life,  should  sympathize  or  synchronize  with  those 
organs  which  have  the  ruling  mission,  and  transfer  its  sceptre  to  the 
younger  dynasty  of  the  chest. 

The  views  we  have  been  considering  find  an  agreeable  response  in 
established  laws  of  nature,  constituting  a  branch  of  the  doctrine  of 
universal  attraction,  whose  appliance  they  show  in  the  human  frame. 
Nor  is  this  an  insignificant  support  that  they  receive.  When  a  law 
is  sure  for  one  department,  we  have  a  right,  assuming  unity  of  sys- 
tem, to  look  for  that  law  in  every  sphere,  though  modified  in  each 
by  its  new  circumstances.  So,  if  attraction  be  the  most  general 
law  of  the  dead  universe,  we  know  that  in  a  new  sense  it  is  the 
general  law  of  organization,  and  also  of  the  human  or  living  uni- 
verse. But,  in  the  actions  of  the  lungs  we  have  found  it  omni- 
present in  the  body;  and  have  seen  the  spring  of  an  attraction 
applied  to  the  organs,  which  causes  them  to  operate  ^ery  much  ac- 
cording to  the  Newtonian  formula.  Here  then  we  join  forces  with 
the  discoverer  of  material  attraction,  who  regarded  it  as  the  imme- 
diate finger  of  God,  freshly  noting  the  solidity  of  whose  wisdom,  we 
find  in  the  body  that  attraction  is  no  abstract  formula,  but  palpable 
and  living  lungs.  Nor  can  we  doubt  than  when  analogy  is  better 
known,  and  can  be  boldly  worked,  the  light  that  issues  from  the 
unfolded  doors  of  the  human  body,  will  stream  forth  into  the  vault 
of  nature,  and  kindle  celestial  physics  with  a  breathing  wisdom  that 


106  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

never  could  come  from  inanimate  things,  even  though  their  theatre 
be  ancient  night  with  its  gorgeous  pageant  of  stars. 

The  active  or  alternate  attraction  in  the  body,  like  all  attraction, 
amounts  also  to  a  law  of  association — in  this  case  the  association  of 
the  organs.  If  each  organ  takes,  and  does,  what  it  wants,  each 
organ  is  conveniently  placed  to  do  and  to  take  it.  The  organs 
which  need  the  best  blood,  are  so  seated  at  the  banquet  that  they 
obtain  it  naturally  and  necessarily.  They  are  succeeded  in  punc- 
tilious rank  by  the  rest,  each  having  its  attractions  seconded  by  its 
place  round  the  table.  There  is  a  society  in  our  members.  But 
this  is  such  a  subject,  that  we  must  be  content  with  a  glance  at  its 
stupendous  proprieties.  The  order  which  it  involves,  could  we  open 
it  but  a  little,  is  of  visionary  magnificence,  and  might  make  us  into 
propagandists  of  the  organization  of  the  body.  For  the  Divine 
Architect  rests  not  in  middling  fitness,  but  now,  as  at  the  first,  per- 
fection is  his  way,  and  embodied  truth  is  his  everlasting  child. 

Surely,  then,  we  say,  at  the  risk  of  repetition,  it  is  no  longer 
difficult  to  see  the  fundamental  importance  of  the  lungs  in  the 
human  body.  Life  consists  in  the  peculiar  faculties,  passions,  in- 
stincts, senses  and  actions,  which  our  bodies  execute ;  or  life  is  spirit- 
ual motion.  This  cannot  be  founded  upon  physical  inertia  or  dead 
body,  but  upon  physical  activity  or  living  body.  And  this  activity 
must  be  constant  and  pervading,  lest  life  should  be  stopped  by  some 
lump  of  rest  or  carcase  remaining  on  its  hands.  Motion  or  vibra- 
tion, therefore,  in  various  degrees,  continually  sways  the  organism, 
and  shakes  it  out  of  the  rank  of  death-like  things.  Thus  it  is  always 
on  the  tremble  and  tiptoe ;  its  motion  its  main  essence,  and  ready  for 
obedience,  as  a  servant  all  ear,  eye  and  sense,  watching  for  command. 
This  could  not  be  the  case  if  the  body,  or  any  part  of  it  were  at  rest. 
The  rest  would  require  to  be  broken,  and  the  body  to  be  roused, 
before  it  could  obey,  and  a  thousand  volitions  would  fail  before  one 
was  brought  into  effect.  But  by  means  of  the  lungs  which  keep 
everything  on  the  move,  the  man  is  ever  ready  for  living  operations. 
Thus,  the  quickness  of  the  body's  service  depends  entirely  upon  its 
response  to  the  animations  of  the  lungs.  Or,  life  is  founded  upon 
motion,  and  the  motion  is  evoked  and  maintained  out  of  rest  by 
physical  life,  animation,  or  in  other  words,  pulmonary  breathing. 


SUMMARY  OF  MATERIAL  BREATHING.  107 

Thus  far,  we  recognize  a  scale  of  physiological  truths  pertaining 
to  the  respiration,  and  which  we  may  distinguish  into  vegetable, 
animal  and  human.  The  doctrine  which  recognizes  the  lungs  as 
providers  of  air,  is  on  the  vegetable  level;  well  for  it,  if  it  does  not 
think  that  it  is  talking  about  men,  when  it  concerns  only  cabbages. 
For  plants  are  like  men  in  this  particular,  of  taking  in  and  giving 
out  air.  The  doctrine  which  regards  breathing  as  of  use  for  motion, 
belongs  properly  to  animal  physiology.  Lastly,  that  doctrine  which 
considers  the  psychological  part  of  breathing,  or  the  manner  in 
which  the  motion  embodies,  represents  and  carries  out  those  facul- 
ties of  thought,  feeling  and  action,  and  those  destinies  that  are 
peculiarly  human,  is  proper  human  physiology.  So  each  thing  is 
named  and  characterized  from  its  own  essence,  and  from  nothing 
either  beneath  it  or  above  it. 

This  concludes  our  present  study  of  the  effects  that  the  lungs  pro- 
duce upon  the  exterior,  and  thereby  upon  the  interiors  of  the  frame ; 
we  observe  that  they  endow  every  organ  with  outward  life,  courage 
and  spirit,  and  call  forth  its  talents  in  its  daily  work  by  the  influ- 
ence of  attraction.  And  the  attraction  being  most  general,  is 
common  to  all  the  members,  which  therefore,  conspire  or  breathe 
together  for  realizing  the  goods  of  life,  and  thence  come  under  a 
genuine  law  of  association. 

Now  as  truths  always  point  out  duties,  there  is  something  im- 
mediately practical  which  arises  from  our  view  of  the  importance 
of  the  movements  of  the  lungs.  If  each  organ  contributes  its 
share  to  the  ensemble  of  life,  each  demands  a  special  care  in  the 
maintenance  of  health,  which  is  the  wealth  of  life.  Much  has 
been  written,  and  justly,  upon  tight  lacing,  as  injurious  both  to 
the  development  and  stability  of  the  body.  But  if  our  ideas  be 
correct,  the  duty  of  leaving  the  chest  and  the  body  free,  becomes  ten- 
fold more  imperative  than  before.  If  motion  be  the  essence  of  the  life 
of  the  organs,  and  if  it  extends  to  the  whole  frame  and  to  the  limbs, 
then  all  articles  of  apparel  may  fairly  be  supervised  and  limited  in 
their  pressure,  in  order  to  give  our  persons  their  lawful  liberty.  In 
this  case  the  emancipation  of  the  body  itself  is  a  subject  of  indivi- 
dual and  domestic  politics  of  the  utmost  importance,  and  the  science 
of  every  organ  should  wring  a  progressive  Magna  Charta  of  dress 


108  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

from  the  kings  of  fashion.  It  is  another  proof  that  we  speak  the 
truth,  because  it  tends  so  directly,  yet  so  newly,  to  reinforce  our 
old  duties,  which  is  an  excellent  test  of  truth.  There  are  in  fact 
as  many  kinds  of  public  health  as  there  are  different  organs.  There 
is  one  which  should  be  represented  at  the  board  of  fashion,  as  hav- 
ing a  veto,  and  establishing  a  precedent  upon  whatever  is  enslaving 
in  dress.  And  it  is  not  to  be  doubted  that  in  what  we  wear,  equally 
as  in  what  we  are,  grace,  pleasure,  and  beauty  are  compatible  with 
freedom,  and  with  freedom  only.* 

But  dress  is  not  the  only  thing  that  coerces  the  frame ;  or  rather 
I  should  say,  the  body  itself  is  a  dress  which  under  certain  circum- 
stances may  oppress  and  hinder  the  breathing.  A  "  belly  with 
good  capon  lined,"  is  a  garment  difficult  to  ensoul.  Over  eating  is 
a  tyrant  against  motion.  It  impedes  the  play,  not  only  of  the 
lungs,  but  of  the  other  members.  A  mass  of  crude  food  is  like  an 
avalanche  of  stones  descending  upon  a  country,  which  buries  the  soil 
under  dead  materials.  How  plainly  do  we  see  the  small  life  in  the 
scant  breath  of  the  unwieldy  hon  vivant,  whose  lungs  have  porter's 
work  to  do  in  lifting  his  disproportioned  paunch.  So  it  is  that 
liberty  and  temperance  are  among  the  natural  commandments  of 
the  lungs. 

We  have  now  spoken  of  the  first  commerce  of  the  lungs  with 
the  body  ;  it  remains  to  consider  some  relations  which  they  main- 
tain with  the  senses  and  the  other  powers,  that  is  to  say,  with  the 
faculties  of  the  brain,  and  by  which  they  again  influence  the  bodily 
organs. 

Now  the  material  senses  inspire  the  body  with  its  first  proper 
life,  and  concur  with  the  pulmonary  inspiration.  For  beginning 
with  touch}  we  find  that  pleasant  contact  which  soothes  the  skin,  is 

*  All  parts  of  the  body  may  be  smothered  or  suffocated  if  confined.  This  is 
often  seen  in  disease,  and  particularly  in  delicate  and  nervous  females,  who  begin 
to  gasp  if  there  is  the  least  pressure  of  physical  restraint,  and  a  touch  sets  them 
off  into  hysterical  movements,  the  feeling  of  suffocation  reacting  from  the  cir- 
cumferences or  limbs  towards  the  centres.  Life  in  such  persons  is  an  exquisite 
balance  which  appreciates  quantities  of  compulsion  and  restraint  that  make  no 
sensible  impression  upon  hardier  organisms. 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  SENSES.  109 

accompanied  with  full  breaths,  sometimes  running  into  deep  sighs  if 
the  sense  be  peculiarly  grateful ;  and  in  extreme  cases  of  the  kind, 
inspiration  almost  obliterates  expiration,  which  survives  only  in 
gasps  and  murmurs.  Painful  contact  on  the  other  hand  strait- 
ens the  lungs,  and  causes  the  breath  to  be  held  as  long  as  possible. 
In  short  we  breathe  in  the  touches  that  delight  us,  but  confine  to 
their  first  place  of  invasion,  and  shut  away  from  the  vitals,  the 
discords  or  agonies  of  our  skins  ;  and  this  by  fixation  or  resolute- 
ness of  the  lungs.  Respiration  then  draws  up  the  sense  of  touch 
towards  the  general  sensorium.  It  also  sucks  in  the  sense  of  taste 
to  the  same  goal.  For  taste  lives  when  inspiration  is  proceeding, 
but  when  we  breathe  out,  or  stop  the  breath,  sapid  substances  do 
not  make  their  proper  impressions.  We  keep  back  breath  when  we 
swallow  drugs,  and  the  nauseous  taste  is  not  drawn  into  our  con- 
sciousness. At  meals,  however,  we  breath  with  satisfaction,  for  the 
circumstances  are  inspiring;  and  tending,  as  they  do,  to  enlarge  the 
man,  they  set  his  machineries  in  motion  with  a  life  of  extra  breaths. 
Smell  is  inspiration  in  its  highest  case  ;  the  nose  is  a  lung  planted 
upon  the  brain,  to  feed  it  with  perceptions  and  excite  it  to  opera- 
tions. Air  and  scent  are  inseparable  companions.  To  breathe 
therefore  involves  to  smell,  the  one  function  swallowing  the  other 
up  into  the  brain,  and  down  to  the  bottom  of  the  lungs.  The 
motives  to  breathe  furnished  by  these  three  senses  make  inspiration 
deeper  and  larger  than  it  would  otherwise  be  (p.  94),  for  pleasure 
takes  great  lungfuls ;  thus  they  animate  the  lungs  with  superior 
life,  and  the  organization  is  opened  by  the  senses  through  the  lungs 
to  a  degree  beyond  what  insensate  lungs  could  effect.  As  for  the 
senses  of  hearing  and  siylit,  the  lungs  do  not  so  directly  aid  them, 
because  light  and  sound  are  above  their  attractions.  Their  active 
offices  terminate  with  the  blood  and  the  air  ;  only  their  passive  offices 
extend  to  the  ether  and  the  nervous  system.  For  hearing  and  sight, 
so  far  as  they  are  essentially  acts  of  attention,  are  best  transacted 
when  the  breath  is  held )  and  indeed  impressive  sights  and  sounds 
tend  to  suspend  it.  We  observe  then,  with  regard  to  the  senses 
and  their  connection  with  the  lungs,  that  touch  and  taste  browse  in 
the  fields  of  inspiration ;  that  smell,  a  winged  sense,  flits  with  cease- 
10 


110  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

less  play  between  inspiration  and  expiration ;  and  that  sight  and 
hearing,  concurring  often  with  suspension  of  the  breath,  live  above 
the  lungs  in  the  airless  cairns  of  the  brain.  Touches  and  tastes 
we  breathe  in ;  smells  we  scent,  or  breathe  in  and  out ;  and  sights 
and  sounds  we  do  not  breathe,  but  see  and  hear,  athwart  the  air, 
either  in  spite  or  in  the  absence  of  its  proper  motions. 

Thus  much  for  the  passive  immission  of  the  material  or  pulmo- 
nary senses.  The  senses  however  have  an  active  condition  in  which 
their  sensations  are  perceptions.  In  this  state  they  partake  of  the 
common  law  of  the  two  higher  senses,  and  are  awake  and  efficient 
at  the  times  of  suspended  respiration.  For  active  sense  is  a  breath- 
less power,  and  does  not  draw  in  body,  but  puts  forth  soul.  Thus 
touch  as  a  mental  product  is  tact:  it  turns  the  tables  upon  its 
objects,  makes  itself  critically  harder  than  they,  and  resists  and 
rejects,  picks  and  chooses  their  impressions  by  deliberate  inquest. 
The  breath  awaits  while  the  steady-fingering  thought  explores,  and 
then  inspires,  not  whatever  comes,  but  precise  information.  Let 
the  reader  observe  himself  when  he  is  feeling  for  such  information, 
and  he  will  find  his  curiosity  rejoicing  in  periods  of  suspended  lungs. 
In  active  taste  the  same  rule  obtains.  We  no  longer  draw  in  the 
pleasant  flavors  by  mouthfuls,  but  disparting  the  tongue  for  special 
acts,  we  make  little  sucks  and  respirations  of  the  palate  upon  speci- 
men morsels;  we  fill  the  decent  sense  with  judgment,  taking  small 
account  of  pleasure ;  and  holding  the  general  breath,  we  calculate 
the  result,  undistracted  by  the  lungs,  in  its  smallest  figures.  last- 
ing, then,  as  contradistinguished  from  taste,  is  carried  on  in  the 
intervals  of  common  breathing.  So  also  is  smelling,  which  works 
its  problems  upon  minute  quantities  of  odors,  shutting  away  the 
volumes ;  actively  we  exert  our  smell  upon  mere  snatches  of  scent 
made  to  run  hither  and  thither  in  the  inquisition  of  the  nose. 
And  as  we  said  before,  we  hear  best  in  breathless  attention,  and  see 
most  observantly  when  the  eye-thought  gazes,  unshaken  and  un- 
prompted by  the  lungs. 

It  is  also  to  be  noticed  that  the  voice,  which  consists  of  percep- 
tions freed  from  the  mind,  and  launched  into  the  air,  is  made  of  the 
material  of  the  expirations.     The  mind  is  breathed  out  into  the  so- 


THE  BREATH  OF  THE  PASSIONS.  Ill 

cial  world  by  the  expirations  and  their  pauses,  and  not  by  the  inspi- 
rations.* 

The  sum  of  these  remarks  is,  that  the  exercise  of  the  senses  is 
rhythmical,  chiming  with  some  part  of  the  respiration  of  the  lungs ; 
either  with  inspiration,  expiration,  or  some  level  or  pause  of  the  one 
or  the  other  at  which  the  breath  may  be  suspended.  And  as  the 
senses  belong  to  the  brain,  evidence  is  afforded  that  its  animations, 
which  comprise  the  senses,  coincide  with  the  respirations  of  the 
lungs.f 

Passing  to  another  sphere,  we  may  glance  at  the  connection  of  the 
lungs  with  the  passions.  On  this  theme  it  may  be  sufficient  to  say, 
that  the  breathing  varies  with  every  emotion j  a  circumstance  which 
may  be  verified  in  experience,  by  noting  the  respiration  at  different 
times.  If  we  could  remove  from  the  language  of  passion  all  refer- 
ence to  these  organs,  we  should  cancel  I  know  not  how  much  of  its 
expressiveness.  If  we  could  take  the  variety  of  the  breath  itself 
away,  the  man,  the  bigger  he  was,  would  be  the  more  an  unmean- 
ing lump.  Where  would  mirth  be,  if  it  lost  all  its  laughter?  What 
would  become  of  hope,  if  it  had  no  dilated  breast  ?  What  would  be  the 

*  Oratory  especially  requires  the  management  of  the  breath,  or  the  economical 
guidance  of  the  expirations  by  the  conceptions.  If  you  spend  your  air  too  fast, 
a  part  of  your  in-coming  air  will  go  to  pay  off  the  extravagance,  and  you  will 
probably  be  in  nature's  debt  throughout  the  speech,  presenting  more  or  less  of 
the  phenomenon  of  a  person  who  has  "  lost  his  breath."  To  "  lose  the  breath" 
is  to  fall  into  an  unnatural  rapidity  of  inspiration  and  expiration,  which  will  not 
be  governed  by  the  will,  in  which  case  the  mind  has  pro  tanto  lost  the  power 
of  dispensing  the  air. 

f  We  have  a  further  proof  of  the  consentaneousness  of  the  lung  movements 
with  the  brain  movements  (pp.  62 — 65),  in  the  fact  that  the  voice,  proceeding 
from  the  head  of  the  lungs,  is  the  voice  of  the  mind,  and  images  its  thought  or 
corresponds  to  its  animations.  But  if  in  this  exalted  function  of  air  such  corre- 
spondence exists,  does  not  thej_ung_air  correspond  in  its  times  with  the  brain 
spirit,  equally  with  the  larynx  air,  which  is  the  voice  ?  If  the  top  of  the  pulmonic 
wind  answers  to  the  surface  of  the  brain  spirit,  or,  in  other  words,  the  voice  to 
the  mind  of  the  moment,  does  not  the  correspondence  run  upwards  and  down- 
wards, and  does  not  deep  call  unto  deep  through  silence  more  than  through 
speech,  and  the  spirit  above  to  the  spirit  below  through  the  lifetime  as  well  as 
through  the  second?  Do  not  our  little  harmonies  swim  in  great  harmonies, 
which  are  not  ours  only,  but  creation's  and  the  Creator's?  But  upon  this  sub- 
ject we  do  not  dwell,  because  we  purpose  to  treat  of  the  voice  on  another  occa- 
sion. 


112  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

plight  of  love,  bereft  of  its  delicious  sighs?*  How  could  pride  exist 
without  its  hardened  chest  and  swollen  throat  ?  Or  rage  without 
his  choking  breaths  ?  Or  anger  without  his  tempests  ?  How  should 
our  poor  weariness  endure,  if  it  had  never  a  yawn  to  console  it  ? 
And  how  would  joy  and  gladness  fail  if  their  healthy  bosoms  did  not 
swell  with  trembling  airs  of  the  clear  blue  firmament,  eager  to  re- 
ascend  in  songs?  But  these  are  only  a  few  of  the  presents  that  the 
lungs  draw  from  the  mighty  winds  to  bestow  upon  their  brethren, 
the  passions.  The  law  is  this.  Each  infant  or  dawning  passion 
disports  itself  first  in  the  brain;  attitudinizes  there  to  the  top 
of  its  bent  in  the  chambers  of  imagery ;  observes  and  admires  its 
goodly  appearance  in  the  mirrors  of  fancy,  and  is  king  uncontrolled 
in  its  own  little  cortical  spheres.  Then  as  the  lungs  are  plastic  as 
air,  it  descends  into  the  theatre  of  resistance  through  their  conve- 
nient mid-way,  and  shapes  and  crystalizes  the  wind  for  the  moment 
into  hardness  and  strength,  softness  or  gentleness,  sighs  or  fulness, 
or  any  of  the  other  forms  which  the  dramatic  occasion  requires,  or 
the  muscles  and  limbs  demand  as  a  ground  for  peculiar  action.  For 
each  emotion  it  hews  the  body  into  a  different  block,  wherewith  the 
emotion  pushes  its  way  in  the  world.  In  a  word,  the  lungs  are  the 
bodily  arena  of  the  passions;  they  give  shape  to  our  impulses,  in- 
crease and  deepen  them,  and  begin  to  carry  them  into  works.  In 
inward  gestures  and  deeply  silent  murmurings  they  first  imprison 
the  words  and  deeds  that  are  at  last  to  resound  through  history,  and 
push  the  nations  to  their  goal. 

But  to  trace  the  special  inhabitation  of  the  passions  or  brain  spirits 
in  the  breaths  or  lung  spirits,  will  require  a  volume. f  It  may  how- 
ever be  noticed  that  the  inspiring  passions  concur  with  the  pleasant 

*  Here  we  may  remark  that  the  spirit  of  the  passions  and  actions,  nay,  of  the 
states  of  man  generally,  may  receive  its  formula  from  the  breath  of  the  lungs ; 
for  the  breathing  is  a  representative  phenomenon,  and  is  to  action  what  words 
are  to  thought,  and  what  tones  or  music  are  to  feeling.  If  we  hear  the  breathing 
of  those  whom  we  do  not  see,  we  infer  to  a  certain  degree  what  they  are  doing, 
and  their  general  tranquillity,  or  the  reverse.  And  this  is  a  walk  of  observation 
that  may  be  cultivated  to  almost  any  extent.  In  very  susceptible  persons,  the 
inferences  drawn  from  the  breathing  of  others  are  wonderful. 

f  We  have  made  some  progress  with  such  a  work,  but  the  field  is  of  an  un- 
expected magnitude. 


THE  BREATH  BUILDING  OF  IMAGINATION,  113 

senses,  and  are  boused  in  the  inspirations ;  that  the  depressing  pas- 
sions tend  to  lower  or  kill  the  breath;  as  extreme  fear,  for  instance, 
which  makes  us  aghast  or  ghostless,  and  causes  the  lungs  to  forget 
their  reciprocations :  and  that  the  middle  passions  have  a  middle 
effect.  And  it  may  further  be  noted  that  the  peculiar  respirations 
which  are  the  bodily  spirits  or  tendencies  of  the  several  passions, 
have  the  office  of  provoking  the  latter,  or  reacting  upon  them.  For 
example,  in  rage,  does  it  not  begin  to  fume  and  swell  in  the  lungs  ? 
is  not  "the  steam  got  up"  in  those  locomotives;  and  does  not  the 
brain,  with  tempests  in  his  hand,  not  only  lash  the  body  into  the 
pace  which  answers  to  its  own  madness,  but  feed  the  madness  out 
of  the  wind-swift  speed  ?  These  passionate  breaths,  although  not 
classified  by  science,  are  known  to  the  observing,  and  interpret  the 
underplay  of  the  feelings,  even  when  speech  and  smiles  dissemble. 
In  this  field  then  the  lungs  have  several  offices.  By  concurring  with 
the  passions  they  raise  the  frame  into  each,  or  communicate  it  to  the 
blood  and  secretions,  enabling  the  mind  and  body  to  keep  company 
through  all  changes,  or  to  be  impassioned  together.  By  the  same 
concurrence  they  amplify  the  field,  and  stimulate  the  fire  of  the  pas- 
sions, fanning  it  with  the  oxygen  of  their  spacious  movements.  They 
also  enlarge  the  material  body  to  the  scope  of  animal  life,  which  is 
passion,  causing  stomach  and  liver  to  flame  and  expand  with  it;  as 
we  saw  in  the  case  of  the  senses,  that  they  extend  the  enlarging 
breath  of  sense  through  the  lungs  to  the  same  material  organs.  The 
lungs  then  lend  the  passions  of  the  mind  physical  force,  and  the  or- 
gans of  the  body  passionate  movements ;  and  by  this  means  they 
make  the  one  and  the  other,  or  the  brain  and  the  viscera,  into  per- 
fect bodily  animals. 

But  the  imagination  also,  which  is  the  intellect  of  passion,  builds 
especial  houses  in  the  breath,  or,  as  it  is  said,  forms  air  castles. 
These  are  its  own  expirations,  in  which  it  revels,  for  what  it  draws 
in  is  nothing  to  it,  but  what  it  breaths  out  is  all.  It  does  not  how- 
ever expire  either  to  do  or  to  die,  but  to  run  after  its  breaths  as  they 
sail  through  the  air;  not  desiring  to  leave  the  world,  but  to  propa- 
gate its  image  children  in  the  universal  imagery.  The  smoke  of  its 
lung-pipe  keeps  it  busy  with  the  plasma  of  a  thousand  twirls.  It 
makes  its  objects  out  of  its  breath,  and  hence  we  locate  it  among 

10* 


114  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

the  expirations.  During  such  imagination,  accordingly,  the  head  is 
held  up,  and  the  breathing  tube  to  the  very  mouth  levelled  like  a 
barrel :  words  fly  forth  with  arrowy  straightness;  the  inspiration  is 
inaudible  though  sufficient,  but  the  man  pants  audibly  towards  the 
unseen,  and  each  pant  externizes  more  of  the  breath  on  which  the 
faculty  pulls  and  feeds.  When  the  breath-palace  is  built,  the  laws 
of  gravity  bring  it  to  the  ground;  whence  air  castles,  as  the  frequent 
beginning  of  earth  castles,  are  not  to  be  despised;  imagination  being 
the  proximate  architect  of  the  arts  and  sciences.  We  may  formulize 
the  respiration  of  this  faculty  by  saying,  that  during  its  exercise  the 
lungs  take  their  airs  to  themselves  just  as  the  imagination  repre- 
sents its  objects  to  itself  externally.  This  lung  conceit  is  one  means 
by  which  the  body  holds  its  own  sphere,  and  protects  it  amid  the 
great  fluctuations. 

Respiration  has  also  a  peculiar  relation  to  the  intellectual  pro- 
cesses, which  lie,  it  will  be  found,  in  fixity  of  breath,  proper  state 
of  lungs,  or  suspended  respiration.  Among  other  reasons  for  this  is 
the  fact,  already  pointed  out,  that  inspiration  is  a  means  of  drawing 
up  the  bodily  sensations  to  the  brain ;  for  the  body  is  as  a  sponge 
let  down  into  the  world,  whose  attraction  upon  the  waves  of  mate- 
rial sense  is  exerted  by  pulmonary  inspiration.  But  in  proportion 
as  these  lower  influences  are  admitted,  often  in  the  same  proportion 
intellect  is  drugged,  and  sleeps  in  the  cortical  beds.  We  speak  of 
a  familiar  fact.  But  because  the  mind  has  power  over  the  lungs, 
it  can  handle  the  senses  by  their  means,  and  prevent  the  floods  of 
worldliness  from  penetrating  to  the  upper  sensoria.  So  also  can  it 
stop  the  mounting  passions.  This  it  does  by  suspending  the  breath, 
and  cutting  off"  the  supplies  of  sense  and  animality.  Or,  to  speak 
more  anatomically,  the  brain  at  such  times  refuses  to  be  invaded  by 
the  blood,  which  contains  the  turmoil  of  the  lower  life :  the  cortical 
spherules  keep  it  at  arm's  length  :  for  it  is  to  be  remembered  that 
the  brain  expires  concurrently  with  the  lungs,  and  when  the  latter 
shut  off  the  blood,  the  brain  does  the  like.  Hence  it  is  that  thought 
is  still,  and  contemplation  breathless:  each  involving,  first,  fixed 
breath,  and  second,  a  small  expiring;  and  so  on,  until  the  thought 
is  traversed,  or  the  effort  ends  and  begins  anew.  Deep  thought, 
then,  where  not  given  directly  by  heaven,  but  conceded  to  human 


THE  BREATH  OF  THOUGHT.  115 

effort,  is  gained  by  the  descent  of  a  ladder  of  expirations,  and  the 
body  dies  down  into  intelligence  by  this  scale :  the  best  of  such  per- 
ceptions come  from  the  confines  of  expiration  and  the  grave,  which 
lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  lungs.  Intellect,  therefore,  in  this  light, 
is  the  capacity  of  standing  and  expiring,  and  living  still ;  death  to 
the  body  governing  the  body;  an  infinitesimal  immortality  into  which 
thought  expires  and  expires,  to  brighten  and  brighten  its  lives.  To 
the  senses,  suspended  animation  is  suspended  consciousness ;  to  the 
intellect  suspended  animation  may  be  life,  thought  and  supreme 
wakefulness.  For  it  lives  when  the  body  is  gasping  :  its  chosen 
sons,  as  they  drag  the  world  onwards,  are  verily  at  their  list  gasp, 
in  the  acceptance  of  their  own  mortal  immortality.  The  intellect, 
then,  through  the  lungs,  puts  the  body  down  under  its  palm ; 
whispers  to  the  sea  of  delirious  sense,  "Peace,  be  still !"  and  plays 
its  melodies  in  the  charmed  air  upon  the  whitest  keys  of  silence. 

Intellect  touches  so  near  upon  trance,  that  the  highest  cases  of 
either  involve  common  phenomena,  and  exist  in  the  same  persons. 
But  trance  is  complete  suspension  of  the  breath,  sometimes  foi  long 
periods.  This  suspension  of  the  breath  of  the  lungs  involves  the 
standing  of  the  spirit  of  the  brain,  and  the  stand  of  this  is  tie  gaze 
of  the  intellectual  eye,  whose  final  and  hard  victory  is  to  sie.  In 
some  subjects,  if  the  lungs  are  fixed,  including  the  brain,  tie  body 
can  wait  for  breath  and  spirit  for  an  indefinite  time.  It  stll  lives, 
because  there  is  a  standing  spirit  in  the  body  and  a  standing  breath 
in  the  lungs,  which  partake  of  the  fixity,  or  are  charned  and 
entranced.  These  are  cases  in  which  life  stands,  and  tie  proper 
spirit  can  go  and  return,  because  the  animal  state  is  safe  md  fixed. 
Nay,  the  time  of  the  trance  or  separation  counts  for  nothing.  We 
do  not  know  a  limit  to  the  duration  of  the  body  under  tiese  condi- 
tions ;  it  is  as  a  day  miraculously  prolonged,  when  our  sun  stands 
still  upon  Mount  Gibeon  and  our  moon  in  the  Valley  of  Ajalon. 
Nor  do  we  know  a  limit  to  the  excursions  of  the  intelbct  on  these 
holidays,  when  it  visits  its  celestial  birthplace,  secure  cf  finding  its 
lungs  and  factories  ready  to  start  into  reciprocation  at  a  moment's 
notice  on  its  re-arrival.* 

*  The  reader  will  notice  that  scientific  experiments  maybe  nude  by  whoever 
pleases,  upon  the  concurrences  of  the  lungs  with  the  mind  and  ttebody  ;  and  that 


116  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

It  must  be  recollected  that  in  these  conditions  the  lungs  are  not 
emptied  of  air;  for  expiration  does  not  go  to  that  extent,  but  plays 
upon  a  certain  depth  of  the  pulmonary  reservoir,  leaving  the  re- 
mainder undisturbed.  The  involuntary  right  of  the  lungs  to  the 
air  is  strongly  asserted  if  we  attempt  to  expire  beyond  a  certain 
point.  Otherwise,  the  body  would  lose  its  life  size,  the  wedge  of 
atmosp'aere  would  have  ceased  to  open  it,  and  the  spirit  crushed  out 
of  the  body  could  not  lift  it  a  second  time  into  the  operations  of 
breathing. 

Moreover,  in  these  conditions  of  suspended  animation  the  chemical 
laws  do  not  persist,  but  like  the  rest  are  suspended.  Held  breath 
concurs  with  held  spirit,  held  blood,*  held  life  and  held  time.  The 
tissues,  particles  and  fluids,  and  the  wind  in  the  lungs,  are  entranced ; 
the  body  is  absent  from  chemical  corrosions  as  the  mind  from  animal 
provocations.  The  air  is  not  required  for  exchanging  products  with 
the  blood,  but  for  maintaining  the  level  of  the  state,  and  serving  as 
an  eHstic  animus  under  the  fixed  attitude  of  the  brain.  And  even 
when  the  air  is  expired  in  partial  trance,  it  is  not  because  it  is 
vitiatal,  but  for  deepening  the  state,  and  as  it  were  steering  and 
standing  in  nearer  to  the  shores  and  lighthouses  of  death. 

We  aow  see  what  this  concurrence  of  the  lungs  bestows  upon  the 
organs,  for  they  all  stand  when  the  lungs  stand,  taking  up  their 
places  as  fleshly  eyes  in  the  attitude  and  body  of  the  intelligence.']" 

for  this  purpose  no  apparatus  is  necessary  beyond  observation  on  the  one  hand, 
and  the  possession  of  the  human  frame  on  the  other.  This,  then,  may  be  a  uni- 
versal science.  In  the  same  way  we  showed,  in  the  Chapter  on  the  Brain,  (pp. 
72,  73),  fbit  there  are  vivisections  which  may  be  studied  without  torturing 
animals,  na\nely,  the  divisions  and  sects  of  a  certain  creature  which  cuts  up  its 
own  specie  a  and  its  own  brains  for  us  every  day. 

*  The  hea-t  indeed  in  itself,  though  not  in  its  blood  in  the  organs,  is  an  excep- 
tion to  the  universal  concurrence  of  the  frame  with  the  breathing  ;  for  although 
influenced  thereby,  it  is  not  reduced,  like  the  organs,  to  the  pulmonic  rhythm. 
But  as  we  shall  show,  it  belongs  to  another  regiment  of  natures,  and  to  a  dif- 
ferent disciplhe  from  the  lungs. 

t  The  concurrence  of  the  head  with  the  body  is  provided  in  many  ways  ;  but 
the  moving  hoimony  of  the  lungs  and  the  brains  appears  to  be  at  the  basis  of  all. 
Let  us  take  art  instance  of  this  concurrence  from  the  muscular  system,  and  let 
the  subject  of  he  experiment  be  walking.  Now  let  him  fix  the  eyes  in  a  gaze 
upon  any  object.  Soon  the  walk  becomes  slower,  and  the  body  is  brought  to  a 
pause,  as  it  seem,  voluntarily.  If  the  gaze  be  continued  under  favorable  circum- 


SUSPENDED  ANIMATION.  117 

It  is  the  interpolation  of  the  higher  life  and  endurance  into  the 
organic  movement;  breathless  but  deathless  moments  set  in  the 
midst  of  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  tissues;  chemical  moth  and  rust 
ceasing  their  gnaw,  and  incorruptibility  paramount  in  the  corruptible. 
So  the  body  represents  the  proper  mind ;  the  intellect  sinks  a  shaft 
into  the  flesh,  making  it  dramatic  of  the  moments  that  we  live 
beyond  sense  and  passion.  Man  would  not  be  embodied  if  that 
which  is  best  in  him  were  not  bodily  set  forth.  The  lungs  then  in- 
troduce this  transcendent  representation,  and  the  mOral  virtues  that 
inhabit  this  order  of  intelligence  commune  with  the  organs  through 
their  means.  They  put  down  the  body,  give  it  the  lesson  of  death  or 
self-denial,  and  frame  in  it  still  windows  of  experience  opening  to  the 
timeless  state.  They  emancipate  the  mind  for  the  occasion  from  the 
stimulus  of  the  passions.  In  short,  they  embody  the  moral  intel- 
lect, or  give  the  frame  a  hyper-animal  life  not  lying  in  physical 

stances,  the  will  thus  brought  into  the  topmost  muscles  (those  of  the  eyes),  and 
which  has  riveted  the  feet,  will  begin  to  rivet  the  muscular  attention  from  above 
downwards.  And  although  the  eyes  close,  if  the  will  be  kept  up,  rigidity  will 
invade  the  jaws,  then  the  arms,  and  then  the  legs — producing  a  state  like  cata- 
lepsy. These  facts  are  familiar  to  those  who  are  acquainted  with  Mr.  Braid's 
admirable  discoveries  in  Hypnotism.  It  is  upon  this  principle  that  lockjaw,  at- 
tacking the  high  ranges  of  muscles  about  the  jaw,  runs  down  the  inclined  plane 
of  the  muscular  system,  locking  it  as  it  goes,  and  bringing  muscle  after  muscle 
in  tributary  streams  to  constitute  tetanus.  And  it  is  by  acting  on  the  still  higher 
point  of  the  muscles  of  the  eyes,  that  this  disease  may  be  commanded  from 
muscles  loftier  than  its  own  origin.  By  the  force  of  this  inclined  plane  system, 
the  expressions  of  the  face  tend  naturally  to  produce  the  gestures  of  the  arm  and 
the  postures  of  the  body,  which  maybe  looked  upon  as  torrents  of  will,  that  have 
come  down  at  first  in  little  streams  from  the  mountain  springs  of  fleshly  action  in 
the  countenance. 

Thus  the  muscular  frame  is  all  made  for  concurrence,  and  forces  which  act  upon 
one  part  of  it,  tend  to  be  diffused  through  it,  as  through  a  contimtum,  but  with  a 
difference  of  function  according  to  the  regions.  The  expression  of  the  face,  which 
is  the  dial  plate  of  the  general  mind,  is  the  mainspring  and  clockwork  of  the 
active  body.  Upon  this  principle,  we  see  that  smiles  precede  laughs,  that 
clenched  jaws  go  before  clenched  fists,  and,  in  short,  that  expression  not  only 
anticipates  but  also  stirs  action. 

These  considerations  furnish  fresh  evidence  that  the  body  is  solidaire ;  that 
whatever  the  head  does,  the  trunk  does  in  its  way,  and  the  limbs  in  theirs:  in 
short,  that  man  is  so  formed  as  to  act  only  in  wholes,  each  full  size.  In  this  way 
we  are  constructed  upon  the  principles  of  poetic  unity,  the  mind  and  the  body 
being  but  one  volume  written  out  in  the  rhymes  of  the  brain  and  the  lungs. 


118  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

movement ;  and  they  intellectualize  the  body,  or  contribute  their 
share  towards  constituting  its  peculiar  humanity. 

If  sense,  passion,  and  thought  are  in  a  certain  dependence  upon 
breathing,  so  also  is  action  to  at  least  an  equal  extent.  All  fineness 
of  work,  all  that  in  art  which  comes  out  of  the  infinite  delicacy  of 
manhood  as  contrasted  with  animality,  requires  a  peculiar  breath- 
lessness  and  expiring.  To  listen  attentively  to  the  finest  and  least 
obtrusive  sounds,  as  with  the  stethoscope  to  the  murmurs  in  the 
breast,  or  with  mouth  and  ear  to  distant  music,  needs  a  hush  that 
breathing  disturbs;  the  common  ear  has  to  die  and  be  born  again, 
to  exercise  these  delicate  attentions.  To  take  an  aim  at  a  rapid- 
flying  or  minute  object,  requires  in  like  manner  a  breathless  time 
and  a  steady  act;  the  very  pulse  must  receive  from  the  stopped 
lungs  a  pressure  of  calm.  To  adjust  the  exquisite  machinery  of 
watches  or  other  instruments,  requires  in  the  manipulator  a  motion- 
less hover  of  his  own  central  springs.  Even  to  see  and  observe 
with  an  eye  like  the  mind  itself,  necessitates  a  radiant  pause.  For 
the  negative  proof,  the  first  actions  and  attempts  of  children  are 
unsuccessful,  being  too  quick,  and  full  moreover  of  confusing 
breaths ;  the  life  has  not  fixed  aerial  space  to  play  the  game,  but 
the  scene  itself  flaps  and  flutters  with  alien  wishes  and  thoughts. 
In  short,  the  whole  reverence  of  remark  and  deed  depends  upon  the 
above  conditions,  and  we  lay  it  down  as  a  general  truth,  that  every 
man  requires  to  educate  Jus  breath  for  Ms  business.  Bodily  strength, 
mental  strength,  both  lean  upon  our  respirations. 

The  co-operation  and  state  of  the  lungs  in  mental  effort  is  repre- 
sented on  a  large  scale  in  their  strain  during  parturition,  in  which 
they  let  out  the  air  in  groans  from  the  relaxed  and  almost  closed 
larynx.  This,  which  is  the  type  of  all  labor,  as  child-bearing  is  the 
image  of  all  productiveness,  is  carried  on  by  holding  the  breath,  and 
determining  it  not  towards  the  air  but  towards  the  obstacle ;  the  por- 
tion of  air  whose  spirit  is  broken  by  the  effort  escaping  immediately 
afterwards  in  the  form  of  a  broken  breath  or  groan.  The  air, 
which  exercises  everywhere  a  universal  pressure,  exerts  in  the  body, 
when  compressed  by  the  muscles,  a  universal  push,  and  is  a  medi- 
um in  all  our  fruitful  pangs,  whether  those  by  which  children  are 
born,  or  those  by  which  thoughts,  which  are  the  mind's  children. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  ACTION.  119 

For  the  brain  is  the  womb  of  the  soul,  and  the  held  breath  during 
the  effort  of  thinking  tends  to  exclude  the  desired  thought  when  the 
determination  of  all  the  parts  strives  towards  the  right  part  of  the 
brain.  After  the  effort  comes  the  groan,  which  shows  that  the 
breath  has  no  more  will,  but  has  done  its  work.  It  would  seem 
that  in  labor,  the  rhythm  of  the  uterus  takes  the  lead  (pp.  103, 
117),  in  commencing  the  breathing,  and  the  lungs  are  obliged  to 
follow  the  strong  contractions  by  shutting  their  apertures,  and  la- 
boring precisely  like  the  womb.  The  nervous  system  and  the  mind 
labor  also  at  the  time  in  the  same  ratio.  There  is  neither  the  free 
child,  the  free  mother,  the  free  breath,  or  the  free  spirit,  until  the 
birth  takes  place ;  but  the  bondage  of  all  is  common  and  oppressive 
to  insure  the  emancipation. 

We  remarked  before  (pp.  87,  111)  that  the  respiration  is  divisi- 
ble into  four  terms,  namely,  inspiration,  the  pause  or  satisfaction 
succeeding  inspiration,  then  expiration,  and  then  the  deliberation  or 
pause  which  follows  expiration.  And  we  have  now  shown  that  in- 
spiration concurs  with  the  agrSments  of  sense  and  feeling.  This  is 
the  first  motive  of  the  lungs,  or  the  pulmonary  atom  of  the  pleasures 
of  the  world,  compounded  however  of  two  elements,  the  nose-breath 
and  the  mouth-breath,  the  former  to  please  or  inspire  the  mind  of 
the  brain,  and  the  latter  to  please  the  mind  of  the  body.  This  term, 
if  persisted  in,  leads  to  swoon,  from  defect  of  expiration ;  whence 
swoon  is  the  prolonged  or  compound  atom  of  the  pause  after  inspi- 
ration. The  pleased  lungs  are  so  gluttonous  of  this  world's  life, 
that  the  world,  bent  upon  equilibrium,  swallows  and  drowns  them 
in  this  swoon,  which  is  the  ocean  of  sensual  satisfactions.  Expira- 
tion, however,  concurs  with  the  spiritual  life,  and  is  the  condition 
of  intellect  or  of  dying  daily.  And  the  pause  which  follows  expi- 
ration, the  refusal  to  breathe  in  from  the  surface,  and  the  stand 
taken  in  the  depths,  is  the  atom  which  in  its  least  form  concurs  with 
abstraction  of  thought,  but  when  compounded,  runs  on  into  trance. 
The  likeness  of  this  in  the  animal  world  is  hybernation.  Thus 
every  thought  is  a  little  trance,  and  every  pleasure  an  initial  swoon, 
as  we  shall  presently  see  that  each  fair  breath  is  a  little  life,  whe- 
er  of  sleeping  or  waking.  And  thus  if  the  breath  is  given  in  inspi- 
ration, the  spirit  is  impressed  upon  expiration ;  for  the  spirit  of  hu- 


120  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

inanity  is  not  in  the  breath  which  is  taken  in,  but  in  that  which  is 
given  out;  the  former  being  planetary,  but  the  latter  psychical. 
There  is,  then,  something  beyond  foul  air  which  man  breathes  forth ; 
for  the  air  is  charged  with  the  vital  movements;  there  is  the  cha- 
racter of  the  life  wrought  into  the  atmosphere,  as  drawn  upon  the 
organs.  And  here  again  we  turn  to  chemistry,  aud  demand  of  it, 
besides  the  analysis  of  average  breathings,  the  contents  of  the  acci- 
dental breaths  emitted  in  peculiar  moments  ?  We  ask  of  it  whether 
the  breath  of  mercy  is  foul  to  the  lungs  of  those  over  whom  the  mer- 
cy leans?  Whether  the  laws  of  vitiated  air  hold  here,  or  no?  or 
whether  there  is  an  angel- galvanism  by  whose  tension  at  such  times 
the  body  and  the  air  fly  clean  above  matter  and  its  pedantries?  — 
Whether  there  is  any  antiseptic  significance  in  the  fact,  that  Jesus 
breathed  upon  his  disciples,  and  said,  receive  ye  the  Holy  Ghost? 
or  in  this  that  we  swallow  the  breaths  of  those  we  love,  and  listen 
to  the  breaths  of  those  we  venerate  ?  Whether  the  last  breath  of 
beloved  friends,  caught  in  all  unsophisticated  times,  is  exhaustively 
represented  by  the  formula,  O+H+C?  Whether  the  blood  and  the 
body  decompose  in  the  same  ratio  during  all  states  of  the  mind  ?  or 
whether  there  are  not  moments,  and  degrees  every  moment,  in  the 
ratio  of  destruction;  moments  of  immortality  in  which  no  waste  oc- 
curs, and  all  intermediate  grades  between  these  and  physical  ruin 
and  decay  ?  And  further  whether  there  are  not  facts  in  human  so- 
ciety, as  of  intimacy,  closeness  of  persons,  community  of  breaths, 
which  show  that  the  expirations  of  one  man  are  in  a  cheerful  and 
life-giving  sense  the  inspirations  of  another  ?  But  chemistry  can  no 
more  analyze  human  air,  than  animal  air  and  vegetable  air,  but  it 
throws  them  down  before  oxygen,  hydrogen,  and  carbon,  the  insati- 
able Cerberus  of  the  laboratory.  On  the  contrary,  we  induce  from 
larger  facts,  not  otherwise  accounted  for,  that  the  motions  of  the  in- 
tellect and  will,  or  the  better  faculties,  are  the  salts  of  the  human 
air,  which  varyingly  wrest  it  from  the  gripe  of  the  chemical  laws. 
We  induce  that  humanized  (p  107)  lungs  have  a  duty  to  perform 
to  the  social  sphere  outside,  and  that  the  expirations  from  such  pay 
back  the  world  with  usury  for  the  simple  air  which  the  inspirations 
take  away.  This,  however,  cannot  be  confirmed  from  the  steams  of 
crowded  assemblies,  but  from  the  closets  of  privacy,  and  from  the 


THE  CONSPIRING  OF  MANKIND.  121 

exceptional  facts  and  moments  in  which  neighbor  comes  close  to 
neighbor,  and  man  hangs  as  a  lover  upon  the  breath  of  man. 

Indeed  it  seems  remarkable  that  the  influence  of  the  vegetable 
world  upon  climate,  and  of  electricity  upon  the  atmosphere,  should 
be  admitted,  and  that  no  influence  of  the  human  world  of  a  similar 
but  higher  kind,  should  be  suspected.  Are  the  thought-movements 
and  the  will-movements  sooner  absorbed  than  the  sound-movements  ? 
do  they  pattern  and  sculpture  the  air  with  less  efficiency?  or  in  what 
do  their  modifications  end?  Is  the  music  of  man's  brain  and  lungs 
of  no  Orphic  power  in  the  tenseness  of  God's  created  harmony? 
But  the  time  is  not  yet  for  these  and  similar  questions;  they  are  how- 
ever as  doves  which  float  already  in  the  poetic  air,  and  the  dry  land 
of  science  is  about  to  appear,  upon  which  they  can  alight. 

Quitting  this  consideration  we  have  to  say,  that  not  only  the  mo- 
ments but  the  lifetime  are  parted  into  breathing  spaces;  for  the  first 
breath  and  the  last  are  the  bounds  of  this  existence,  and  the  ends 
shape  the  means,  or  constitute  the  career  itself  into  a  series  of  breath- 
ings. These  larger  lines  of  breath  consist  of  habitual  modes  of 
respiration  answering  to  the  tone  of  life,  and  constituting  pulmonary 
morals,  manners  and  customs.  They  are  determined  by  the  mixture 
of  the  four  terms  already  specified  in  various  proportions,  and  by 
the  velocities  and  spiritual  qualities  which  are  carried  into  these. 
In  this  way  the  lungs  move  and  associate  individuals,  as  we  before 
noticed  that  they  move  and  associate  the  organs  (p.  106);  for  only 
those  who  conspire  or  breathe  alike  are  together  in  thought  and  in- 
tention ;  and  the  society  of  persons  tends  to  last  only  so  long  as  they 
have  common  respirations.  The  attempt  to  prolong  companionship 
beyond  these  limits  disarranges  the  springs  of  the  organs;  the  pre- 
sence of  heterogeneous  persons  straitens  our  breath,  or  as  we  say, 
dispirits  us.  But  we  shall  have  to  recur  to  this  subject,  of  discord 
or  want  of  tune  in  breathing,  when  we  speak  of  Public  Health,  which 
means  public  association  on  the  principles  of  the  organs. 

In  mechanical  cooperation  the  unanimity  of  breathing  among  the 
workmen  is  essential  to  oneness  of  effort.  Hence  the  rude  cheery 
work-shouts  that  sailors  extemporize  in  weighing  anchor,  masons  in 
hauling  up  blocks  of  stone,  and  so  forth;  and  hence  the  adjunction 
of  music  to  battalions,  which  require  to  have  one  spirit  and  step. 
11 


122  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

A  mass  that  is  to  be  as  one  man  must  breathe  alike  in  its  parts. 
The  same  thing  is  true  of  society,  or  unanimity  in  its  higher  depart- 
ments. The  heard  breath  of  your  neighbor  is  moreover  regulative 
and  contagious  upon  your  own,  and  increases  and  realizes  the  union 
of  which  it  is  the  effect,  especially  when  the  breath  of  all  is  repre- 
sented in  an  audible  rhythm.  In  this  way  the  Eddas  and  poetries 
bind  mankind  into  sheaves,  being  as  common  respirations  or  great 
world-tunes,  the  sum  of  beginnings  of  musical  acts  from  the  sailors 
upon  the  river  of  time. 

And  here  we  may  observe  that  throughout  life  the  lungs  exercise 
the  dramatic  office  of  producing  in  the  frame  those  motions  which 
answer  to  the  periods  of  existence.  When  the  man  is  to  sleep,  the 
lungs  give  the  effigy  of  sleep  in  the  system,  and  the  slumbering  soul 
is  imbedded  in  a  slumbering  body.  When  he  is  to  awaken,  the 
breath  of  morning  sparkles  from  the  lungs  throughout  him,  and 
master  and  servant  rise  in  a  breath  for  their  unanimous  day's  work. 
As  a  child,  his  innocent  brains  find  a  sisterly  helpmate  in  his  playful 
and  peace-breathing  lungs;*  his  blood  and  vitals,  like  his  pretty  face, 
are  full  of  sweet  and  innocuous  motions;  his  lungs  transplant  the 
childhood  to  his  tissues;  and  soul  and  body,  head  and  feet,  he  is  all 
one  child.  The  youthful  spirit  again  and  the  youthful  body  are  each 
the  other's,  and  the  bond  between  them  is  still  lung,  attraction,  or 
the  lover's  link.  When  he  is  a  man,  his  lungs  too  put  away  child- 
ish things;  heart,  liver,  brain  and  bowels  are  engaged  in  manly 
movements;  the  breath  of  manhood  strengthens  him;  his  vitals  are 
adult  and  personal;  and  the  man  lives  well  in  an  outer  man  who  is 
the  body  of  his  powers  and  the  servant  of  thoughts.  Age  steals 
upon  him  in  the  wants  of  a  second  childhood;  he  begins  to  breathe 
fainter;  his  old  days  are  a  young  lesson  of  living  above  the  air; 
and  his  last  breath  sets  the  body  free  as  no  longer  able  to  move  in 
his  service.  And  so  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  life,  the  body 
conspires  with  the  mind,  through  the  friendly  intervention  of  the 
lungs. 

*  Let  the  reader  try  to  breathe  like  a  child,  and  let  the  auditors  of  the  breath 
decide  "whether  he  succeeds,  or  no.  There  is,  indeed,  in  adult  breath  such  a 
peopling  of  multitudinous  thoughts,  such  a  tramp  of  hardness  and  troubles,  as 
does  not  cede  to  the  attempt  to  act  the  infantine  even  for  a  moment. 


EVEN  BREATHING.  123 

But  in  speaking  of  the  four  parts  of  breath  we  have  separated 
qualities  which  are  not  incapable  of  union.  Thus  we  have  regarded 
expiration  as  of  spiritual  significance,  and  inspiration  as  of  sensual, 
whereas  these  two  may  be  balanced,  and  the  just  lungs  in  consecu- 
tive moments  may  show  them  to  be  equal  weights.  Pleasure  indeed 
makes  inspiration,  and  energy  and  resolve  animate  expiration,  but 
pleasure  and  energy  are  sometimes  united  in  the  joy  of  ivork,  and 
then  the  inspiration  and  expiration  are  at  one,  and  the  man  breathes 
con  amove.  Thus  in  what  we  call  happy  moments,  when  we  do  our 
little  miracles,  put  in  our  least  imitable  touches,  and  sing  our  best 
songs,  we  breathe  as  if  we  breathed  not;  there  is  no  greed  on  the 
one  side  of  the  lungs,  or  effort  on  the  other,  but  levelness  of  taking 
in  and  giving  out :  the  gold  of  inspiration  is  minted  with  the  die  of 
action,  and  it  passes  through  expiration  without  a  challenge,  and  so 
expiration  itself  becomes  plenarily  inspired.  In  this  state  both  sides 
of  the  Janus  of  breath,  peace  and  war,  pleasure  and  energy,  are 
combined  in  happiness.  The  highest  moments  and  emotions  are  of 
this  balanced  order;  innocence,  peace,  and  the  perfect  qualities,  pro- 
duce equality  on  the  two  scales  of  the  functions  of  the  lungs.  Man 
inhabits  the  world  aright,  in  this  equilibrium  between  his  passions 
and  his  actions,  whose  hours  are  as  the  immortality  of  his  childhood 
and  the  genius  of  his  life.  And  innocence,  peace,  and  all  the  sweet 
even-breathers  glide  down  through  a  variety  of  states  into  that  which 
is  their  compound  atom,  sleep,  the  fountain  into  which  they  descend, 
and  from  which  again  they  arise  like  love  born  fresh  from  the  morn- 
ing ocean  waters.  In  this  sleep  there  are  many  depths  of  the  level 
breathing;  the  child's,  which  scarcely  stirs  the  surface  of  his  tiny 
lake  of  breath;*  the  man's,  which  goes  deeper,  but  always  accord- 
ing to  justice  and  equation.  Thus  in  the  fair  proportion  of  the  four 
terms,  we  locate  the  model  states  of  waking  and  sleep :  even-mind- 

*  The  laws  of  the  diffusion  of  gases  are  adequate  to  produce  the  function  or- 
dinarily assigned  to  expiration ;  but  the  motion  of  expiration,  and  its  constant 
variations,  are  additional  to  this  function,  and  to  be  looked  upon  as  livingly  me- 
chanical, or,  in  other  words,  psychical  phenomena.  Moreover,  the  chemical 
impregnation  of  the  air  with  the  breath,  is  a  different  thing,  both  in  regard  to 
space  or  extension,  and  time  or  permanence,  from  the  vital  impregnation  of  the 
air  with  motions  :  for  the  material  breath  falls  in  dregs  which  soon  pass  away, 


124  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

edness,  which  gives  all  things  their  places,  and  is  the  ever-vigilant 
balance  of  the  soul;  and  even-bodiedness,  which  lays  us  along  under 
our  happy  coverlets,  and  makes  our  slumber  as  still  as  our  good  con- 
science. This  state  is  the  rare  complement  of  lop-sided  pleasures 
and  duties;  of  the  swoons  of  delirious  sense,  and  the  trances  of  the 
ascetic  soul :  and  he  breathes  best  who  most  completely  enjoys  it. 

We  have  now  seen  how  fully  the  breathing  is  inhabited  by  the  liv- 
ing powers,  and  how  our  breasts  heave  with  our  natures  and  our  minds; 
in  other  words,  how  the  faculties  of  the  soul  go  up  and  down  through 
the  arches  of  respiration.  We  have  seen  what  a  thread  of  human 
life  courses  through  the  actions  of  the  lungs,  and  by  them  is  trans- 
ferred to  the  organs.  One  function  then  of  the  lungs  consists  in 
equating  the  body  with  the  soul,  and  momentaneously  keeping  up 
the  equation.  But  these  organs  produce  also  the  momentaneous 
connection  between  the  psychical  and  corporeal  frames.  For  if  it 
is  they  that  give  motion  to  every  organ;  that  attract  material  sense 
from  the  world  towards  the  head;  that  represent  all  emotions,  pas- 
sions, and  imaginations,  and  give  them  to  the  body;  and  by  their 
power  of  station  are  the  footstool  of  thought  and  will,  first  submis- 
sion to  which  they  likewise  embody :  if  it  is  they  that  sleep  with 
sleep  and  that  wake  with  waking :  again,  if  it  is  they  that  prepare 
the  body  by  a  model  agency  for  every  action ;  and  furthermore,  that 
draw  down  the  real  spirit  of  the  brain  into  the  body,  or,  in  other 
words,  pump  us  out  of  our  spiritual  reservoirs; — then  it  follows  that 
it  is  the  lungs  which  physically  connect  the  organism  with  its  ani- 
mating soul.  And  what  connects  the  lungs  themselves  with  the 
same  soul  is,  that  their  movements  correspond  with  those  of  the 
brain ;  whence  the  feeling  which  we  all  have,  that  in  breathing  we 
are  living. 

We  have  endeavored  throughout  this  doctrine  to  follow  learned 
Vestiges,  and  .to  show  that  knowledge,  like  organization,  may  pass 

while  the  mental  breath  endures,  we  know  not  how  long :  for  as  the  poet  says  of 
the  Forum — 

"  Still  the  eloquent  air  burns,  breathes  with  Cicero." 

Poor  Byron!     Even  for  the  skeptics,  as  soon  as  they  begin  to  sing,  nature  is 
either  nothing,  or  haunted  ! 


PULMONARY  CONNECTION  OF  BODY  AND  SOUL.  125 

through  "  developments :"  that  science  is  sometime  a  cold-blooded 
animal,  and  sees  respiration  from  a  fishy  point  of  view,  as  is  the  case 
with  the  existing  physiology,  whose  doctrine  lies  motionless  in  the 
seas  of  knowledge,  and  without  proper  breathing  takes  in  and  gives 
out  the  little  and  casual  air  which  is  dissolved  in  the  waters.  But 
it  is  time  for  the  scientific  fish  to  undergo  another  stage,  and  putting 
oif  the  piscine,  to  busy  itself  with  warm-blooded  motions.  And, 
finally,  the  fish  must  become  a  man,  and  derive  the  pulmonary 
motions  from  another  kind  of  warmth,  which  in  old  wisdom  is  the 
Soul.  This  will  be  something  practical  in  the  doctrine  of  "  develop- 
ment." 

For  assuredly  the  lungs  give  our  bodies  a  series  of  endowments 
which  are  not  animal ;  comparative  anatomy  sheds  no  light  upon 
these,  unless  you  reckon  the  anatomy  of  the  soul  in  the  series  of  the 
comparisons.  And  this  leads  us  to  speak  again  of  the  lungs  as 
space-makers;  a  function  of  which  we  are  so  jealous,  that  if  we  be 
confined  in  breath,  or  restraint  put  upon  the  chest — arms,  legs,  and 
every  muscle  fight  with  convulsive  energy  against  the  oppressor. 
For  human  liberty  is  doubly  grounded,  in  the  body,  and  in  the  soul. 
And  in  the  body,  the  liberty,  by  virtue  of  the  airy  and  opinionated 
lungs,  is  given  attractively  to  every  organ,  as  we  showed  before. 
Thus,  each  faculty  has  its  proper  size,  or  liberty,  which  is  the  air  it 
breathes ;  and  if  it  has  it  not,  it  dies.  Breathing  makes  the  living- 
body  bigger  than  the  corpse.  Sense  makes  the  body  roomy  enough 
for  a  lustier  exercise  of  powers.  The  passions  dilate  it  to  the  scope 
and  size  of  public  strife.  Thought  again  diminishes  it,  because 
thought  does  miracles  in  minimis,  and  alters  worlds,  if  need  be, 
from  the  throne  of  poverty,  or  from  examples  radiant  through  dun- 
geon-walls. But  free  thought,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  is  a  liberty 
beyond  liberty.  In  truth,  each  faculty  and  each  fixed  opinion, 
spaces  the  body  to  suit  its  own  play;  whence  sects  and  parties  wear 
their  very  bodies  for  liveries,  and  are  dry  or  juicy,  liberal  or  stinted, 
sensual  or  spirited,  according  to  the  openness  that  their  tenets  put 
into  their  lungs,  and  their  lungs  into  their  livers  and  frames. 

Much  has  been  written  about  the  cause  of  the  first  breath,  as 
though  it  had  not  the  same  cause  as  all  the  breaths,  being  derivable 
from  no  other  source  than  the  motion  of  the  organic  mind  in  the 

11* 


126  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

head.  To  be  bom  alive,  is  to  be  born  -with  a  germ  of  mind  related 
world  wards  J  to  have  such  a  spark,  is  to  have  a  rhythmical  motion 
of  the  brain  directed  bodywards,  which  motion  cannot  subsist  or 
be  promoted  without  a  seconding  rhythmical  action  of  the  lungs. 
There  is  no  need  of  any  other  principle  than  the  harmony  of  the 
lungs  with  the  brain  to  account  for  the  first  act  of  breathing,  which 
in  fact,  is  the  beginning  of  our  life.  We  take  the  first  breath  be- 
cause we  choose,  and  we  take  the  ten  thousandth  for  the  same 
reason ;  and  when  we  do  not  choose,  as  in  sleep,  it  is  as  if  we  did, 
because  Providence  backs  our  wills  with  similar  wills  of  His  own, 
then  called  souls,  which  fill  up  our  intervals,  and  make  our  lives 
coherent.*  Before  all  inquiries  into  the  causes  of  beginnings  in 
the  body,  there  stand  two  inexorable  axioms:  1.  The  soul;  and,  2. 
The  consentancousness  between  it  and  the  body.  After  this,  the 
explanation  of  any  given  first  effect,  as,  e.g.,  breathing,  lies  in  our 
knowledge  of  the  functions  of  the  effect,  which  account  for  our  using 
it.  The  argument  of  the  human  body  is  like  the  body,  living;  or 
every  physiological  problem  may  be  put  thus :  Why  does  the  soul 
do  so  and  so? 

Before  concluding,  we  revert  (p.  95)  for  a  moment  to  the  statical 
function  of  the  lungs,  to  remark  how  these  organs  distribute  life 
into  strata.  The  vulgar  call  the  lungs  lights,  and  so  they  are;  for 
the  belly  gives  us  gravity  and  links  us  to  the  ground,  but  the  lungs 
give  us  levity,  and  lift  us  towards  the  air.  Erectness  of  attitude 
(p.  103)  begins  in  the  chest;  we  give  ourselves  the  airs  by  which  we 
strut,  first  in  the  breaths  and  last  in  the  muscles.  The  second 
power  of  erectness  is  flight,  such  as  we  see  in  birds  and  insects, 
which  conspire  with  the  air  so  well,  because  their  bones  and  tissues 
are  open  to  it ;  besides  which  they  can  rarefy  the  air,  both  by  their 
heat,  and  by  the  cupping  action  of  their  powerful  muscles  upon  the 
closed  cavities  of  the  frame.  Their  feathers  too  are  outward  air 
cells,  answering  to  the  universality  of  their  lungs  within.     Man 

*  Here  it  may  be  noted  that  the  lungs  correspond  to  both  the  cerebrum  and 
cerebellum.  For  their  breathing-  may  be  either  involuntary  or  voluntary.  In 
this  respect  they  combine  in  a  single  organ  the  functions  of  the  accidental  and 
permanent  life,  or  of  the  will  and  the  nature  (p.  70).  They  therefore  cement 
the  bond  between  the  two  brains  by  a  marriage  of  their  motions  in  the  body. 


THE  TEACHING  OF  LANGUAGE  AS  AN  ORGANON.         127 

seems  heavy  compared  with  the  swallows  and  the  eagles.  Yet  with 
faiths  for  his  second  lungs  and  sciences  for  his  wings,  he  is  the 
lightest  of  the  tribes;  and  if  he  seems  chained  to  the  ground  now, 
it  is  because  these,  his  lives,  have  not  been  admitted  into  his  bones. 
His  lungs,  which  may  hang  in  the  air  (p.  95),  are  a  prophecy  that 
his  body,  and  bodies  of  his  body,  may  be  similarly  suspended.  For 
what  are  his  lungs  but  a  balloon  corded  down  into  his  flesh,  of 
which,  when  fully  inflated  by  the  spirit,  his  body  is  the  car  ?  The 
earth  belongs  to  the  human  lungs  as  birthright  and  natural  gift ; 
they  are  "tied"  to  have  it.  The  ocean  belongs  to  the  human  lungs 
by  the  held  breath  of  the  diver,  who  is  at  once  the  fisherman  and 
the  fish.  The  air  belongs  to  the  human  lungs  by  want,  prophecy 
and  science;  by  the  leading  of  Him  who  has  ascended  already,  and 
trod  the  lightness  of  the  crystal  climes.  The  spirit  belongs  to  the 
human  lungs,  by  their  sails  filled  with  every  sense,  passion  and 
thought;  by  the  trances  of  man,  which  are  above  the  air,  and  by 
the  breadth  of  the  supernal  life,  which  does  not  disdain  the  concur- 
rence of  the  lungs.  And  peace  and  greater  powers  than  these  be- 
long to  them  in  all  and  through  all,  as  the  gift  of  God,  who  breathes 
his  blessings  upon  his  chosen. 

It  is  good  to  look  to  the  ordinary  language  of  mankind,  not  only 
for  the  attestation  of  natural  truths,  but  for  their  suggestion,  be- 
cause common  sense  transfers  itself  spontaneously  into  language, 
and  common  sense  in  every  age,  is  the  ground  of  the  truths  which 
can  possibly  be  revealed  to  it.  If  there  be  no  common  sense  to 
welcome  a  truth,  that  truth,  however  vivid,  is  lost  in  the  darkness 
of  the  mind.  It  is  of  no  use  to  speak  it.  If  we  set  our  ideas  of 
the  lungs  before  the  glass  of  language,  they  receive,  to  say  the  least, 
a  cordial  welcome.  For  undoubtedly  most  of  the  words  expressive 
of  life,  are  borrowed  by  analogy,  either  from  the  atmosphere,  or  its 
organ  the  lungs.  Thus,  animation  is  the  Latinized  form  of  breath- 
ing; an  animal,  a  living  creature,  is  a  breathing  creature;  an  ani- 
mated body  is  a  breathing  body;  the  soul  also  is  an  anima,  a 
breath  ;  the  mind  or  disposition  is  an  animus,  also  a  wind  or  breath; 
we  receive  inspirations,  which  are  the  breathings  in  of  high  influ- 
ences; we  have  aspirations  therefrom,  which  are  our  voluntary 
breathings  back  after  the  good  which  has  been  shown  to  us;  we  are 


128  TUB  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

spirits,  that  is  again  to  say  breaths  or  attractions  towards  one 
Eternal  Object,  who,  through  our  finite  organism  draws  us  to  Him- 
self. Finally,  we  read  of  the  breath  of  life  that  was  breathed  into 
the  nostrils  of  our  first  parents,  and  man  became  a  living  soul.  Now 
we  have  attempted  to  show  that  these  phrases  are  nature's  own  ana- 
logies ;  that  the  functions  of  the  lungs  are  so  identified  with  that 
motion  which  is  the  representative  of  life,  that  life  cannot  be  imaged 
save  in  words  borrowed  from  the  lungs  and  their  august  ministra- 
tions. In  this  respect,  I  trust  to  have  the  whole  of  the  depositories 
of  past  truth  and  genius,  the  old  wives,  upon  my  side,  which  will 
atone  for  the  absence  of  others,  because  there  are  no  better  begin- 
nings of  physiology  than  these  old  wives'  tales.  Most  of  them  are 
point  blank  true,  and  will  come  out  more  and  more  as  they  are 
wanted,  constituting  in  time  the  last  novelties  of  a  sublimely  scien- 
tific age. 

But  when  shall  the  theme  be  ended  of  the  atmosphere  of  the 
microcosm  ?  Or  what  is  the  entire  drift  of  these  iEolian  harmonies 
let  out  upon  the  sciences  from  the  lungs  ?  We  can  only  further 
say,  without  pretending  to  a  formula,  that  the  planet-air  is  the  double 
of  the  lung  air.  For  in  the  human  sphere  the  viscera  stand  as 
trees  with  the  lungs  for  leaves,  and  quiet  absorption  subsists  in  this 
vegetable  degree.  But  furthermore,  the  superincumbent  lung-air 
presses  down  upon  the  vitals,  whence  the  physics  and  mechanics  of 
the  atmosphere  run  parallel  with  those  of  the  lungs.  But  again, 
the  lung-air  has  its  system  of  winds,  beginning  whencesoever  the 
will  pleases,  and  blowing  from  the  poles  either  of  matter  or  spirit, 
love  or  hate,  passion  or  consideration,  and  making  the  climate  of 
the  ruling  state  to  travel  through  the  whole  body.  Then  also  the 
lung-air  is  as  full  of  the  soul  as  the  world  is  full  of  the  sun.  And 
lastly  our  little  atmosphere  in  motion,  like  the  great  atmosphere, 
rubs  our  atoms  against  each  other  everywhere  with  electric  rustle 
and  collision,  and  by  its  congenial  friction  magnetizes  the  assem- 
bled parts,  and  they  open  the  cases  of  the  life-gems.  But  for  the 
rest,  the  voice  would  cease  to  speak  before  these  truths  are  exhausted 
that  chant  themselves  up  from  the  deep  well  of  the  lungs.  For  ever 
and  anon  as  we  listen  we  hear  a  more  inward  chorus. 

At  least  we  have  seen  that  the  body  lives  in  alternation ;  that 


UNIVERSALITY  OF  THE  LUNG  PRINCIPLE.  129 

the  voluntary  moments  of  the  machine  are  the  breathings ;  that 
thus  time  is  meted  out  in  our  frames,  and  we  are  introduced  as 
finished  clocks  of  time  into  a  world  of  time — of  measured  changes. 
So  it  is  that  we  are  tuned  to  the  universe,  which  exhibits  the  same 
play  in  its  furnitures  through  all  their  fortunes.  And  so  it  is  that 
we  are  fitted  to  our  place  in  humanity,  which  expands  and  contracts 
from  epoch  to  epoch,  from  idea  to  idea,  from  institution  to  institu- 
tion. All  things  are  as  cycles  of  not  an  unending  but  an  ever- 
during  providential  change.  Their  existence  in  time  consists  in 
their  motion  and  change.  Merely  subsisting  without  moving  on- 
wards, would  involve  their  rejection  into  the  rear,  among  the 
shadows  of  the  past.  They  live  in  the  present  by  breathing  as  the 
universe  is  breathing.  Moreover  all  things  have  their  own  space, 
their  means  of  liberty,  the  play-ground  of  their  being.  And  the 
wonder  of  the  body  lies  in  this,  that  it  brings  man  into  the  whole 
order  of  the  world,  without  surprise,  because  with  full  preparation. 
If  he  is  to  be  subject  to  day  and  night,  there  is  day  and  night  already 
written  upon  his  members;  half  his  moments  are  a  rest,  even  when 
work  and  thought  are  in  their  fullest  power;  his  aims  and  desires 
have  their  gay,  fresh  morning,  their  high-flown  noon,  dubious  twi- 
light, meditative  evening,  and  night  of  cessation  or  repose.  If  he 
is  to  ride  in  the  train  of  the  fourfold  seasons,  the  reins  which  direct 
the  procession  pass  through  his  own  soul  and  system  ;  he  finds  that 
there  is  a  season  for  all  things  human ;  that  the  body  has  its  spring, 
of  refining  delight  and  happiness ;  its  good  summer ;  its  fruitful 
autumn ;  its  winter,  whether  of  needful  rest,  or  unhappy  torpidity ; 
and  this,  on  the  minute  scale  of  hours  as  well  as  in  the  circle  of 
the  threescore  years  and  ten.  If  he  is  to  live  in  the  revolutions  of 
his  own  societies,  his  mind  and  body  are  still  at  home,  for  they 
themselves  are  nothing  but  revolutions.  And  if  he  is  to  die — to 
expire  at  last — does  he  not  die  in  his  atoms,  and  expire  many 
times  every  minute  during  his  longest  life;  and  carelessly  lets  go 
his  breath  after  each  inspiration,  secure  that  the  outward  and  in- 
ward powers  are  ordered  to  revive  him  from  the  fast  embrace  of  this 
mimic  death.  So  he  is  a  genuine  part  of  the  series  of  nature ;  a 
true  heir  of  time;  a  life  depending  on  variety;  amoving  accident 
of  progress;  a  being  of  alternate  cycles;  one  to  whom  nothing  is 


130  THE  HUMAN  LUNGS. 

alien  that  happens  or  can  happen  in  the  wide  creation.  This  is 
owing  to  his  body  first,  and  subsequently  to  his  mind.  The  lungs 
are  the  divine  provision  which  introduces  and  accommodates  him  to 
the  world  of  change. 

Let  us  then  end  by  translating  the  lungs  into  thought  and  hu- 
manity. Every  principle  has  a  first  name  by  which  we  lisp  it  in 
material  representations.  First  it  is  an  individual  thing  j  next  a 
being  with  relations  ;  and  at  last  it  figures  among  the  grand  ends 
of  existence.  The  world  and  man  are  the  same  principles,  trans- 
lated as  they  rise  from  the  ground,  into  other  atmospheres,  or  into 
more  and  more  universal  languages.  Form  in  the  lowest  degree, 
means  life  in  the  second,  and  love  in  the  third,  and  intellect  in  the 
highest;  terms  and  things  which  are  very  diverse,  and  yet  but  one 
principle,  full  of  resources,  and  showing  its  face  through  different 
windows  of  the  universe.  The  soul,  an  inhabitant  of  all  heights 
and  climates,  addresses  the  tongue  of  each  to  the  creatures  of  the 
same ;  and  one  word  is  a  brain,  another  the  lungs,  and  so 
on  through  the  hieroglyphical  polyglot  of  the  body.  Every  syl- 
lable there  has  its  mission,  to  make  mind,  to  support  mind,  and  to 
alter  it.  Good  is  the  interpreter  of  the  whole,  and  truth  is  the 
interpretation. 

What  now  are  the  lungs  ?  They  are  a  yawning  hollow  in  the 
top  of  the  man,  the  sides  of  which  cavern  are  alive.  The  world 
enters  them  bodily.  Tendency  to  vacuum,  which  nature  abhors,  is 
their  spirit.  They  draw  us  out  into  more  than  we  are,  and  we 
shrink  back  as  nearly  as  we  can  into  our  old  dimensions.  Reluc- 
tant vegetation  ceases  as  they  open,  and  life  is  born,  crying.  They 
are  an  engine  added  to  the  body,  under  whose  draw  it  becomes  pro- 
gressive, and  every  space  therein  is  enlarged,  to  take  in  more,  and 
to  live  more.  They  pull  open  all  the  solids,  that  all  the  fluids  may 
enter  them  )  and  strain  every  nerve  and  blood-vessel  into  fresh  ac- 
tivities and  virtues.  They  give  room  and  airiness  to  the  inward 
parts,  and  set  them  to  work  in  a  daily  larger  sphere.  Now  these, 
in  altered  phrase,  are  also  the  functions  of  the  understanding  mind, 
which  as  it  is  opened,  shows  and  causes  new  wants,  and  new  wills 
and  ways.  Our  wants  are  so  many  threatened  vacua,  according  to 
the  form  of  which,  we  open  to  the  pressure  of  the  truth,  whether 


HIGHER  ANALOGUES  OF  THE  LUNGS.  131 

of  nature  or  of  heaven.  The  necessity  to  be  more  and  better  than  we 
are,  the  divine  dissatisfaction  in  which  we  live  and  move,  is  the  germ 
of  understanding;  it  is  the  want  which  can  never  be  done,  but  is 
to  breathe  and  ponder  on  through  incessant  ages.  The  under- 
standing, like  the  lungs,  is  no  wind,  or  shadow,  but  the  substantive 
power  and  voice  of  all  our  wants,  calling  us  away  to  larger  lives 
and  finer  occupations.  It  is  the  consciousness  of  our  position,  and 
of  how  to  change  it ;  the  solemn  claim  of  the  future  on  the  present; 
the  beckoning  of  the  universe  to  the  atom,  to  come  up  among  the 
stars. 

This  is  the  root  of  the  lungs,  this  is  the  mind  which  they  carry, 
but  mathematically  speaking,  what  are  the  powers?  Millions  of 
vesicles  make  one  lung;  greater  millions  of  lungs  figured  afresh 
make  one  humanity.  Here  they  are  want  again;  first,  physical 
wants,  necessities,  the  iron  understandings  which  are  the  mothers 
of  inventions ;  the  looms  and  hammers  which  must  ever  ply,  or  we 
lapse  into  nakedness  and  starvation.  Second,  and  based  upon  the 
first,  all  the  necessities  of  public  progress  which  strain  and  distress 
the  time;  domestic,  political,  social,  and  spiritual  understandings; 
which  show  us,  in  bold  imagination,  ideal  commonwealths,  built  all 
of  white  justice,  and  bid  us  strive,  although  we  die,  to  reach  them; 
Utopian  societies,  lovely  and  reciprocal,  peaceful  in  the  length  of  a 
redder  sunshine,  in  plains  beyond  our  travels'  strength ;  our  own 
and  the  world's  infancy,  painted  with  agonizing  truth  upon  the 
stormy  skies  of  manhood,  or  the  dark  cope  of  age ;  and  with  no 
desponding  voice  command  us  to  bo  born  again.  These  are  signs 
and  warnings,  portents,  or  promises,  in  every  understanding;  there 
is  no  speech  or  language  where  their  voice  is  not  heard ;  attracting, 
commanding,  or  threatening,  to  one  and  the  same  intent ;  and  airy 
or  cloudy  though  they  be,  they  stand  in  the  breath  of  the  eternal. 


132  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 


CHAPTER  III. 


ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 


Organized  beings  grow  from,  and  subsist  upon,  matter  which  is 
extraneous  to  themselves,  and  the  fitting  of  this  matter  for  the  pur- 
poses flf  their  lives,  constitutes  the  process  of  digestion  in  a  wide 
sense.  In  the  human  body,  the  immediate  end  of  digestion  is  the 
blood,  which  is  the  fountain  or  beginning  of  the  whole  solid  fabric. 
The  food,  on  the  other  hand,  is  the  matter  to  be  digested — to  be 
converted  into  blood.  Looking,  then,  at  the  food  as  the  one  end, 
and  at  the  blood  as  the  other,  and  noting  the  marked  difference  be- 
tween the  two,  it  may  be  anticipated  that  a  long  chain  of  means  is 
necessary  before  the  one  can  become  the  other.  Where  the  diver- 
sity is  great  between  any  two  things,  their  assimilation  must  be 
proportionately  gradual,  and  their  reconcilement  gently  successive; 
and  the  passage  which  either  of  them  describes  on  its  way  to  the 
other,  will  probably  have  many  joints,  and  lead  about  through 
strange  turnings  to  an  unexpected  union.  Such  is  the  case  with 
the  food  itself,  and  especially  with  the  portions  of  it  that  are  intro- 
duced as  chyle  into  the  sanguineous  current.  Digestion,  therefore, 
and  its  organs,  present  us  with  a  new  element  in  our  studies  of  or- 
ganization; with  the  element  of  a  series  pervading  the  body;  in 
this  case,  a  series  terminating  in  the  blood,  and  recommencing 
from  the  blood ;  and,  as  a  consequence  of  the  powers  of  series  or 
gradualness,  with  the  notion  of  assimilation,  or  the  likening  of 
one  thing  to  another  through  a  succession  of  changes  occurring 
in  a  certain  order,  and  exhibiting  a  play  of  harmonious  differences 
and  increasing  likenesses  running  without  a  break  through  the 
whole.  Let  us,  then,  bear  in  mind,  for  the  present,  that  successive 
series,  and  successive  assimilation,  are  the  meaning  of  the  digestive 
act,  and  that  these  apply  to  the  digestive  organs,  as  well  as  to  the 
digestive  objects  or  the  alimentary  substances  which  we  consume. 


THE  LAW  OF  SERIES.  133 

Let  us  also  remark  in  the  preliminaries,  that  if  the  substances  of 
the  external  world  were  not  inherently  adapted  for  our  sustenance, 
the  possibility  of  any  series  of  changes  harmonizing  them  with  our 
physical  system,  would  be  cut  off;  so  that  in  the  very  fact  of  di- 
gestion we  find  a  co-ordained  fitness  between  man  and  nature.  This 
we  detect  in  all  things  the  more  and  the  better  we  look  for  it.  It 
is  a  well  of  truth  to  draw  upon  in  the  sciences,  and  especially  in 
human  physiology. 

We  have  said  that  organizations  depend  for  growth  and  mainte- 
nance upon  materials  extraneous  to  themselves,  and  this  is  equally 
true  of  the  vegetable  as  of  the  animal  kingdom.  There  is,  however, 
a  difference  between  the  methods  of  nutrition  in  the  two  cases.  The 
plant  or  tree  is  fixed  by  its  roots  into  the  soil,  and  imbibes  at  their 
extremities  the  nutritious  juices;  it  is  imprisoned  in  a  particular 
spot,  and  its  supplies  depend  upon  the  fertility  of  a  very  limited 
area ;  although  by  its  leaves  it  extends  into  the  movable  atmosphere, 
and  at  the  summit  of  its  powers  begins  to  take  advantage  of  the 
new  principle  of  locomotion.  In  the  animal,  on  the  other  hand, 
motion  is  the  pedestal  of  life ;  the  pillars  which  support  it  are  en- 
gines of  movement,  and  the  ground  under  it  is  fluid ;  its  roots  also 
are  turned  inwards,  collected  and  associated,  and  constitute  reposi- 
tories or  stomachs,  into  which  alimentary  substances  are  carried  by 
proper  animal  actions.  The  range  and  freedom  of  animal  exist- 
ence immensely  excel  the  strait  security  of  the  lower  nature;  the 
precarious  income  of  life  is  far  better  than  the  small  certainties  of 
vegetation.  Thus,  while  the  stately  tree  subsists  on  a  few  square 
yards  of  earth,  the  animal  which  it  shades,  and  the  bird  that  lodges 
in  its  branches,  choose  their  food  from  wide  districts,  and  are  only 
confined  by  the  barriers  of  nature,  as  the  shores  of  the  ocean,  or 
the  limits  of  the  climate.  Moreover,  the  vegetable,  with  few  ex- 
ceptions, draws  its  sap  from  the  underground — from  the  dark  scurf 
of  the  mineral  kingdom;  whereas,  the  animal  takes  its  nutrient 
juices  from  among  the  children  of  air,  light,  and  motion;  from  the 
succulent  tops  and  fruits  of  nature ;  from  the  results  of  an  elaborate 
previous  digestion  in  the  bosom  of  the  earth,  the  plant,  or  even  the 
animal  frame  itself. 

Much  more  are   these  superiorities  true  of  man  physically,  or 
12 


134  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

rather  of  the  physical  man  considered  as  a  member  of  society; 
for  apart  from  society  man  is  not  a  man,  but  the  most  destitute  of 
animals  ;  an  animal  without  instincts ;  with  a  germ  of  reason  never 
to  be  expanded ;  with  wants  never  to  be  known  to  himself — never 
to  serve  as  ends  of  action :  his  intellect,  a  sad  surmise  of  a  false 
destiny  and  lost  estate  j  his  jaws,  hands  and  limbs  embruted  and 
maimed  in  the  attempt  to  awaken  his  dead  mother,  nature,  and  in 
contesting  his  mights  with  his  fellow-creatures,  the  beasts.     Man, 
however,  as  in  this  late  age  we  are  to  observe  him — man  as  the 
unit  of  society,  is  infinitely  more  locomotive  than  any  animal  in  its 
natural  condition,  and  as  all  men  are  travelers  either  by  proxy  or 
in  person,  each  as  a  centre  can  draw  his  supplies  from  all.     The 
human  home  has  one  universal  season,  and  one  universal  climate. 
The  produce  of  every  zone  and  month  is  for  the  board  where  toil  is 
compensated  and  industry  refreshed.     For  man  alone,  the  universal 
animal,  can  wield  the  powers  of  fire,  the  universal  element,  whereby 
seasons,  latitudes,  and  altitudes  are  levelled  into  one  genial  tem- 
perature ;  nay,  whereby  every  spot  may  in  time  bear  its  harvest  of 
men,  and  contribute  its  proper  merchandise  to  even  the  poorest 
brother  of  the  social  table.     Man  alone  can  command  the  archi- 
tecture that  will  hold  the  domestic  hearth,  and  on  the  inevitable 
model  of  his  own  frame,  build  a  house  in  which  he  can  use,  and  yet 
shut  out,  the  universe  and  its  atmospheres.     And  man  alone,  that 
is  to  say,  the  social  man  alone,  can  want,  and  duly  conceive  and 
invent,  that  which  is  digestion  going  forth  into  nature  as  a  creative 
art,  namely,  cookery,  which  by  recondite  processes  of  division  and 
combination,  by  cunning  varieties  of  shape,  by  the  insinuation  of 
subtle  flavors;  by  tincturings  with  precious  spice  as  with  vegetable 
flames;  by  fluids  extracted  and  added  again,   absorbed,  dissolving 
and  surrounding;  by  the  discovery  and  cementing  of  new  amities 
between  different  substances,  provinces  and  kingdoms  of  nature; 
by  the  old  truth  of  wine,  and  the  reasonable  order  of   service; 
in  short,  by  the  superior  unity  which  it  produces  in  the  eatable 
world ;  also  by  a  new  birth  of  feelings,  properly  termed  convivial, 
which   run   between   food   and  friendship,   and   make   eating  fes- 
tive;   all  through  the  conjunction    of  our  Promethean  with   our 
culinary  fire;   raises  up  new  powers  and  species  of  food  to  the 


VEGETARIANISM.  135 

human  frame;  and  indeed  performs  by  machinery  a  part  of  the 
work  of  assimilation ;  enriching  the  sense  of  taste  with  a  world  of 
profound  objects:  and  making  it  the  refined  participator,  percipient 
and  stimulus  of  the  most  exquisite  operations  of  digestion. 

Man  then,  as  the  universal  eater,  enters  from  his  own  faculties 
into  the  natural  viands,  and  gives  them  a  social  form,  and  thereby 
a  thousand  new  aromas  answering  to  as  many  possible  tastes  in  his 
wonderful  constitution ;  and  therefore  his  food  is  as  different  from 
that  of  animals  in  quality,  as  it  is  plainly  different  in  quantity  and 
resource.  How  wise  should  not  reason  become  in  comparison  with 
instinct,  in  order  to  our  making  a  right  use  of  so  vast  an  apparatus 
of  nutrition  !  Is  it  surprising  if  the  prodigy  of  human  digestion 
too  often  sinks  into  a  perverse  development,  or  if  diseases  that  hap- 
pen never  to  simple  animals,  are  engendered  in  the  course  of  the 
indefinite  appetites  of  man? 

A  controversy  that  may  one  day  be  of  importance,  and  whose 
data  seem  coeval  with  history,  requires  a  passing  mention  while  we 
are  speaking  of  human  food.  It  has  been  held  by  many  individuals, 
and  even  by  sects,  that  vegetable  substances  are  our  natural  and 
proper  aliment,  and  that  our  taste  for  the  flesh  of  animals  is  an 
acquired  and  a  morbid  appetite,  the  gratification  of  which  unmans 
us  in  our  better  part,  aggravates  whatever  is  low  and  fierce  in  our 
characters,  and  discourages  our  highest  and  gentlest  affections,  and 
our  calmest  reasons.  As  to  what  may  be  natural  to  man,  the 
argument  is  suspect.  An  old  writer  has  pithily  remarked,  that 
"  many  things  which  would  be  preternatural  in  a  natural  state,  are 
natural  enough  in  the  preternatural  state  in  which  we  live  at 
present."  Human  nature  indeed  is  always  changing  by  its  own 
act  and  deed — by  its  own  choice  of  change ;  and  no  change  in 
which  it  concurs  is  to  it  artificial,  but  it  remains  human  nature 
still.  The  career  of  mankind  is  a  line  and  chain  of  new  human 
natures,  and  nothing  is  so  natural  to  us  now  as  artifice  itself.  For 
the  rest,  experienced  anatomists  and  physiologists,  reasoning  from 
the  teeth,  and  from  the  comparative  properties  of  the  intestinal 
tube,  its  length,  and  so  forth,  are  confident  that  the  human  being 
is  omnivorous,  and  they  have  the  historical  and  geographical  fact, 
if  not  the  right  upon  their  side.     There  seems  to  be  a  series  of  ali- 


136  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

ments  required  by  the  different  races  from  the  equator  to  the  pole ; 
the  vegetable  predominating  at  the  equator,  and  running  by  a  les- 
sening scale  down  the  sides  of  the  globe  ;  the  animal  commencing, 
if  I  may  so  speak,  at  the  polar  end,  and  likewise  running  by  a 
lessening  scale,  modulated  according  to  climates,  towards  its  mini- 
mum in  the  torrid  zones.  Thus  we  have  the  highly  baked  white 
meats  of  India  passing  through  long  gradations  to  the  raw  red  flesh 
and  blubber*  of  the  Arctic  regions;  and  again  by  a  curious  inver- 
sion, the  highly  flavored  vegetable  dishes  of  India  decline  in  the 
same  manner  towards  the  insipid  vegetable  cookery  of  the  north. 
In  the  tropics,  taste  is  the  great  allurement,  and  cookery  there,  as 
in  China  and  Hindostan,  is  in  its  most  varied  perfection ;  in  the 
frigid  zones,  hunger  is  the  predominating  sense,  and  readiness  and 
quantity  satisfy  it  best.  As  measured  by  the  sense  of  taste,  the 
hot  countries  are  the  tongue  of  the  world,  delicate,  liguriating,  fasti- 
dious, in  which  hunger  is  near  to  thirst;  the  other  regions  are  the 
successive  portions  of  the  alimentary  canal,  ravenous  and  void  at 
last ;  little  appreciating  quality,  but  loving  impletion.  The  tropi- 
cal man  lives  upon  the  sun,  which  gives  him  its  warmth,  and  he 

*  Although  fatty  substances  seem  to  be  taken  in  cold  climates  upon  the 
principle  of  supplying  fuel  to  the  animal  fire,  yet  oils  or  vegetable  fats  are  con- 
sumed in  large  quantities  in  warmer  countries,  and  especially  in  the  summer 
season.  The  diet  in  Italy,  for  example,  is  largely  mixed  with  oil.  The  frigid 
zones  provide  animal  fats  in  abundance,  the  torrid  yield  vegetable  fats,  rich  oily 
nuts,  &c. ;  and  undoubtedly  the  staple  of  the  soil  is  a  kind  of  measure  of  the 
diet  of  the  inhabitants.  In  cold  latitudes  fat  makes  heat,  and  keeps  out  cold,  for 
a  well-lined  skin  is  an  important  ingredient  of  warmth,  and  is  the  basis  of  warm 
clothing.  But  in  hot  parts  oily  aliment  is  taken  upon  a  different  principle.  It 
is  demanded  in  the  latter  case  as  a  corrective  to  the  watery,  pungent,  acid  and 
cold  things  which  are  so  refreshing  to  the  frame.  On  this  principle  it  is  used 
with  salads,  cucumbers,  &c.  &c.  It  acts  mechanically  or  sensationally,  com- 
municating its  own  smoothness  to  the  otherwise  irritated  stomach  and  intestines  ; 
or  giving  a  soothing  organic  feeling  to  the  parts,  which  is  communicated  to  the 
nervous  centres.  All  foods  have  this  contagion  in  addition  to  their  other  effects ; 
they  propagate  their  own  feel  to  the  body.  The  pleasures  of  taste  depend  part- 
ly on  this/ee/,  as  well  as  upon  proper  gustation;  thus  the  crunch  of  nuts  and  the 
smoothness  of  cream  are  agreeable  apart  from  the  taste.  We  cannot  but  think 
that  this  demulcent  use  of  oil  is  important  in  a  medical  point  of  view,  in 
spasmodic  actions  of  the  intestines.  It  is  said  to  have  been  remarkably  success- 
ful in  Spain  in  the  treatment  of  cholera,  which  involves  intestinal  insurrection  of 
the  greatest  intensity. 


THE  PLANETARY  DINNER  TABLE.  137 

requires  to  be  strongly  attracted  to  material  food ;  while  at  the  ex- 
tremities of  the  planet  food  is  the  gross  fuel  of  life,  which  is 
constantly  consumed  in  large  quantity,  and  must  be  constantly 
supplied. 

What  is  true  of  the  world  at  large  holds  equally  of  its  countries, 
which  partake  of  the  roundness  of  time  in  the  whirl  of  the  fluent 
seasons.  Summer  is  our  torrid  zone,  and  winter,  our  frigid ;  and 
we  feed  as  Esquimaux  in  our  nocturnal  solstice,  and  are  as  abste- 
mious Hindoos  in  our  melting  dog-days.  The  planetary  dinner- 
table  has  its  various  latitudes  and  longitudes,  and  plant  and  animal 
and  mineral  and  wine  are  grown  around  it  and  set  upon  it,  accord- 
ing to  the  map  of  taste  in  the  spherical  appetite  of  our  race.  There 
is  the  great  ecliptic  of  thirst,  with  its  lesser  circles,  the  path  and 
parallels  of  the  burning  sun ;  and  there  are  the  poles  of  hunger, 
also  with  circles,  terminating  in  the  equator  of  languid  appetite  and 
easy  satiety.  For  hunger  is  the  child  of  cold  and  night,  and  comes 
upwards  from  the  all-swallowing  ground ;  but  thirst  descends  from 
above,  and  is  born  of  the  solar  rays.  The  fluid  and  the  solid  are  of 
inverse  genealogies,  and  different  centres,  and  their  primordial 
wants  are  as  much  opposed  as  their  sources.  Thirst  lives  in  the 
throat,  at  the  summit  of  the  alimentary  tube ;  substantial  hunger 
low  down  ;  and  the  two  run  upwards  and  downwards,  intermingling 
their  desires,  are  happily  blended  in  the  stomach,  and  each  is  lost 
in  each  at  the  extremes.  And  so  the  man  is  solid,  or  fluid,  which 
you  please;  the  blood  so  liquid  in  its  vessels,  becomes  bone  in  the 
bones,  and  flesh  in  the  muscles ;  the  human  form  looked  at  from 
within,  is  an  ever-changing  fountain ;  seen  from  without  it  is  one 
steady  crystal,  congealed  and  unmoving,  though  rolling  swiftly  still 
along  the  line  of  years. 

Let  it  however  be  observed,  that  hunger  and  thirst  are  strong 
terms,  and  the  things  themselves  are  too  feverish  provocations  for 
civilized  man.  They  are  incompatible  with  the  sense  of  taste  in  its 
epicureanism,  and  their  gratification  is  of  a  very  bodily  order.  The 
savage  man,  like  a  boa  constrictor,  would  swallow  his  animals  whole, 
if  his  gullet  would  let  him.  This  is  to  cheat  the  taste  with  unman- 
ageable objects,  as  though  we  should  give  an  estate  to  a  child.  On 
the  other  hand  civilization,  house-building,  warm  apartments  and 

12* 


138  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

kitchen  fires,  well-stored  larders,  and  especially  exemption  from 
rude  toil,  abolish  these  extreme  caricatures ;  and  keeping  appetite 
down  to  a  middling  level  by  the  rote  of  meals,  and  thus  taking 
away  the  incentives  to  ravenous  haste,  they  allow  the  mind  to  tutor 
and  variegate  the  tongue,  and  to  substitute  the  harmonies  and  mel- 
odies of  deliberate  gustation  for  such  unseemly  bolting.  Under 
this  direction,  hunger  becomes  polite ;  a  long-drawn,  many-colored 
taste;  the  tongue,  like  a  skillful  instrument,  holds  its  notes:  and 
thirst,  redeemed  from  drowning,  rises  from  the  throat  to  the  tongue 
and  lips,  and  full  of  discrimination  becomes  the  gladdening  love  of 
all  delicious  flavors.  At  the  same  time  there  is  this  benefit  also, 
that  we  can  always  descend  to  the  lower  condition,  and  find  an 
agreeable  variety  in  the  plainest  fare. 

But  to  recur  for  a  moment  to  the  vegetarians  (not  to  do  them  an 
injustice),  although  we  accept  the  testimony  of  the  anatomists  and 
physiologists,  and  the  dictation  of  facts,  as  of  value  for  the  present, 
yet  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  is  not  conclusive  for  the  future  j  for 
in  a  being  mutable  like  man,  capable  of  improvement  and  of  de- 
terioration, with  power  to  alter  his  mind,  and  therefore  his  brains 
and  his  body,  it  is  difficult  to  say  to  what  extent  his  anatomy  may 
have  conformed  to  his  habits,  good  or  evil.  No  doubt  our  frames 
have  changed  with  the  times  since  the  world  began.  Existing  cus- 
toms and  organisms  are  not  fixed  points  to  limit  the  truth,  or  to 
govern  the  future.  Anew  appetite  for  flesh,  conceived  in  the  mind, 
and  daily  gratified,  and  of  consequence  daily  strengthened,  could 
not  fail  in  the  course  of  generations  to  mould  the  consumer  to  the 
desired  end ;  and  in  short  to  make  animal  food  natural  to  the  human 
constitution,  by  modifying  the  latter.  That  it  may  fairly  be  called 
natural  now,  is  evident,  for  where  is  the  race  that  abstains  from 
flesh  unless  either  religion,  or  strict  necessity,  forbids  its  use  ?  The 
question  therefore,  like  other  administrative  questions,  is  one  of 
times,  and  wants,  and  wise  expediency.  If  by  other  sorts  of  tempe- 
rance the  members  of  society  find  their  thoughts  calmed  and  deep- 
ened, their  senses  refined,  their  emotions  more  constant,  powerful 
and  peaceful,  it  is  hard  to  say  to  what  new  sublimities  temperance 
may  not  aspire;  what  fresh  interpretations  it  may  not  assume,  or 
how   it  may  not  assault  the  carnivorous  man.     Every  herb  and 


139 

every  fruit  may  presently  be  for  our  meat,  as  in  tlie  days  of  our 
first  parents.  In  the  meantime,  however,  man  is  strictly  and  po- 
tently omnivorous  in  the  nineteenth  century ;  and  we  may  well  ques- 
tion whether  the  vegetable  kingdom  is  at  present  sufficiently  com- 
prehended to  supply  the  varied  qualities  of  food  which  are  necessary 
for  our  support;  for  how  few  of  the  said  herbs  and  fruits  con- 
tinue to  be  eatable.  We  cannot  banquet  like  the  first  men;  until 
we  get  back  the  golden  earth.  As  it  is,  the  encroachment  of  drugs 
and  poisons  has  driven  our  esculents  into  a  penfold,  and  we  are 
fortunate  if  from  the  exceptions  to  the  kingdoms,  we  can  furnish 
our  table.  Assuredly  the  woods,  fields,  and  gardens  must  be  more 
humane,  which  no  doubt  they  are  willing  to  re-become;  the  stomach 
also  must  put  forth  the  hands  of  a  more  inventive  agriculture,  be- 
fore the  vegetarian  crusaders  can  be  allowed  to  wave  their  leafy  flag 
over  the  city  of  the  cooks.  But  by  dabbling  too  much,  or  prema- 
turely, in  their  limping  pultaceous  diet,  we  should  become  not  the 
children,  but  the  abortions  of  Paradise. 

It  has  been  suggested  by  Dr.  Prout,  that  the  milk  which  is  our 
first  aliment — an  aliment  certainly  human,  if  not  animal — and 
which  is  the  food  prepared  by  nature  herself,  is  the  type  of  all  food 
whatever;  that  it  contains  certain  alimentitious  principles  in  com- 
bination, which  are  but  repeated,  and  their  combination  re-attempt- 
ed, in  the  most  elaborate  cuisine.  His  analysis  of  the  components 
of  the  milk,  is,  into  oily,  saccharine,  and  albuminous  matter;  and 
after  investigating  our  food  and  its  combinations,  he  finds  that  his 
view  regarding  milk  is  borne  out  by  the  instinctive  tastes  and  artificial 
cookery  of  mankind.  According  to  this,  all  our  meals  are  but  as- 
pirations to  our  original  milk.  There  may  however  be  different 
analyses  of  milk  besides  the  partly  chemical  one  he  has  mentioned, 
and  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  other  views  will  equally  comport 
with  this  reference  of  food  to  the  lacteal  type.  We  can  scarcely 
doubt  that  the  idea  has  a  truth;  it  wears  so  organic  an  aspect,  and 
takes  its  stand  with  such  powerful  innocence  at  the  head  of  a  science 
of  alimentation.  Moreover  nature,  the  mighty  mother,  offers  her- 
self breastwise  to  all  her  little  natures ;  she  swells  in  landscape  and 
undulating  hill  with  mammary  tenderness;  each  creation  is  a  dug 


140  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

held  forth  to  a  younger  creature ;  and  milk  is  thus  again  a  symbol 
of  the  food  and  feeding  which  are  everywhere. 

But  let  us  pass  onwards  from  the  food  which  is  the  matter,  to  the 
fluids  which  are  the  medium,  and  to  the  organs  which  are  the  in- 
struments, of  digestion.  Now  there  is  nothing  more  general  in  ani- 
mal life  than  the  digestive  apparatus,  because  matter  is  the  largest, 
if  not  the  greatest,  fact  in  the  material  universe.  Every  creature 
which  is  here,  must  be  made  of  something,  and  maintained  by  some- 
thing, or  must  be  landlord  of  itself.  Every  part,  and  every  faculty, 
of  every  being  inhabiting  the  planet,  must  be  duly  clothed  and  bal- 
lasted with  stuff  derived  from  the  earth,  or  it  would  have  no  ope- 
ration in  the  body,  or  upon  the  body,  much  less  upon  the  external 
world.  Hence  the  stomach  is  an  organ  of  the  first  importance  to 
all  mortals.  You  may  take  away  brain  and  nervous  system,  and 
leave  their  place  to  be  supplied  by  the  fluxions  and  imponderables 
of  nature ;  you  may  take  away  the  lungs,  and  consign  their  office 
to  the  circumambient  lifeless  atmospheres  j  you  may  abstract  the 
heart  with  its  blood-vessels,  and  commit  the  dull,  gluey  circulation 
to  the  almost  mechanical  and  chemical  laws  of  affinity  that  obtain 
in  vegetables  :  and  notwithstanding  all  this,  you  may  still  have  an 
animal  being  remaining.  In  short,  there  are  animals  which  are  no- 
thing but  stomachs,  but  there  are  no  animals  which  are  nothing  but 
brains.  In  the  human  race  also  the  stomach  is  of  the  same  para- 
mount importance ;  its  existence,  and  due  impletion,  are  the  first 
or  last  conditions  of  the  existence  of  the  individual ;  they  are  the  basis 
of  humanity,  and  nothing  is  so  sublime  but  it  rests  upon  them,  and 
must  perish  out  of  this  world  if  they  cease,  and  otherwise  follow  their 
vicissitudes.  The  assured  feeding  of  the  nations,  is  a  question 
that  involves  in  its  settlement  all  other  questions,  and  postpones 
sublimities  until  necessities  are  complied  with.  Jewelled  goblets 
there  are  besides,  but  this  earthen  cup  must  be  satisfied  before  the 
other  vessels  of  the  man  can  begin  to  be  filled. 

The  food,  consisting  of  matters  from  the  animal,  vegetable,  and 
mineral  kingdoms,  is  at  first  received  by  the  lips,  which  present  to 
it  a  more  and  more  delicately  sensitive  surface  from  their  beginning 
at  the  external  skin  towards  the  roots  of  the  teeth ;  and  especially 
where  the  sight  is  not  employed,  it  is  apprehended  by  a  sense  of 


SALIVARY  GLANDS.  141 

touch  so  gradually  fine,  as  if  touch  itself  were  passing  into  taste,  as 
the  food  is  passing  to  the  tongue.  It  is  next  transmitted  to  the  teeth 
arranged  in  manifest  row  and  series.  What  is  received  by  the  front 
or  incisor  teeth,  is  delicately  treated,  or  minced,  and  the  fine  things 
set  free  go  at  once  to  the  tip  of  the  tongue,  which  is  waiting  close 
behind  to  receive  tljem.  At  the  sides  of  the  mouth  the  molar  teeth 
stand  ready  to  grind  their  portion,  and  their  milling  surfaces  become 
more  and  more  severe  and  powerful  from  before  to  behind;  they  also 
are  a  distinct  series  of  structures,  and  involve  a  series  of  operations; 
for  every  new  tool  has  a  new  action.  Intermediate  between  the 
mincing  and  grinding  teeth  are  the  canine,  so  large  in  carnivorous 
animals,  which  both  thrust  and  cut  the  food,  and  submit  it  to  the 
molar  action.  It  is  good  to  believe,  that  the  juices  separated  by 
the  different  teeth  go  primarily  to  the  part  of  the  tongue  alongside 
those  teeth,  and  are  especially  to  the  taste  of  that  part;  for  the  neigh- 
borliness  of  the  body  is  not  useless  but  functional. 

All  this  time  the  food  has  not  been  merely  reduced,  and  its  juices 
set  free,  but  animalized  also ;  and  this,  from  the  very  porches  of  the 
mouth.  Even  before  the  first  nutrient  fluids  are  expressed  from 
it,  a  living  fluid,  the  saliva,  has  come  out  of  the  body  to  re- 
ceive them.  There  is  a  series  cf  salivary  glands  running  from  the 
lips  throughout  the  tube.  The  sight  of  the  food,  the  action  of  mas- 
tication, the  pleasantness  of  the  morsels,  and  the  suctorial  power  of 
the  tongue,  draw  out  the  saliva  from  the  respective  glands  in  the 
mouth,  as  it  is  wanted  to  moisten  the  organs,  and  to  penetrate  and 
dissolve  the  food.  Especially  do  the  emotions  call  out  the  attentive 
saliva,  and  the  mouth  waters  with  appetency.  Sight  and  fancy 
wherewith  it  is  full,  and  which  it  obeys  in  the  first  place,  have  fed 
it  with  anticipatory  fire,  and  schooled  it  for  its  duties.  Moreover 
the  saliva  is  no  menial,  but  the  immediate  product  of  the  blood  pro- 
ceeding to  the  head  and  the  organs  of  the  senses,  and  if  not  sum- 
moned into  the  mouth,  goes  its  course  towards  the  brain;  and  being 
thus  descended  from  the  blood,  and  akin  to  the  blood,  it  is  clearly 
an  excellent  medium  between  the  blood  and  the  new  food,  whose 
finest  portions,  under  its  guidance,  are  themselves  to  be  educated 
into  blood.  The  expressed  food  is  the  new  guest  which  is  to  be  in- 
augurated into  the  duties  of  the  household;  the  blood  is  the  royal 


142  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

table  itself;  the  saliva  is  the  commissioned  master  of  the  ordinances, 
who  busies  himself  to  instruct  the  food  in  the  laws  of  the  place,  and 
in  the  conditions  of  its  hospitality. 

The  saliva,  like  everything  else  in  this  system,  exhibits  a  play  of 
varieties.  In  the  mouth  this  is  manifest  to  all.  Do  we  not  feel 
that  in  the  front  of  the  mouth  the  saliva  is  thin  and  trickling;  in 
the  back  part,  as  it  approaches  the  throat,  more  and  more  viscid  and 
tenacious?  How  this  difference  in  thickening  is  produced,  we  need 
not  now  inquire,  but  may  simply  note  the  fact  of  an  orderly  series 
existing  even  in  this  small  compass. 

The  food  already  upon  the  tongue,  carved  by  the  front  teeth,  pierced 
by  the  middle  teeth,  and  ground  by  the  back  teeth ;  also  saturated  by 
the  saliva;  affords  the  sense  of  taste  to  the  sensorial  papillae  of  the 
tongue,  which  tongue-like  themselves,  protrude  and  exert  themselves 
to  enjoy  it ;  and  this  nimble  member  seeks  and  suffers  the  pleasures  of 
the  time  with  infinite  agitation  and  emotion.  What  is  the  sense  of 
taste  ?  Is  it  merely  that  abstract  thing,  an  influence,  made  of  nothing 
but  metaphysical  motions?  Do  tasty  substances  knock  at  the  door  of 
the  organ,  and  leave  their  names,  without  going  in  themselves  ?  It 
may  be  difficult  to  demonstrate  by  anatomy  the  absorption  of  juices 
by  the  tongue,  yet  facts  show  that  such  absorption  takes  place. 
The  sudden  recruiting  of  bodily  and  nervous  power  by  matters 
taken  into  the  system ;  the  effect  produced  by  wine  and  other  fluids 
when  only  held  in  the  mouth;  the  fact  that  the  tongue  is  the  be- 
ginning of  the  great  absorbent  organs,  and  must,  therefore,  in  con- 
sistency begin  the  absorption;  also  the  variously-formed  promi- 
nences or  papilla)  upon  the  tongue,  which  are  poorly  accounted  for 
by  physiologists,  because  they  overlook  the  right  of  the  tongue  to 
taste  in  that  real  sense  which  tasting  implies;  moreover,  the  cer- 
tainty that  there  are  in  creation  no  abstract  influences  or  impres- 
sions unaccompanied  by  streams  of  tangible  stuff:  all  these  reasons 
establish,  that  the  tongue  enjoys  an  antepast  of  the  food;  drafts  its 
best  essences,  recruit  after  recruit,  into  the  system,  in  union  with 
the  finest  saliva;  and  only  sends  down  into  the  stomach  the  por- 
tions which  are  exhausted  for  the  mouth. 

But  current  science  tells  us,  that  there  is  no  tasting  in  the  tongue, 
and  no  feeding  in  the  stomach,  but  that  the  man  is  nourished   en- 


PASSAGE  OF  FOOD  TO  THE  STOMACH.        143 

tirely  from  the  lower  belly — from  the  intestinal  tube.  A  physio- 
logy that  confesses  to  living  so  grossly,  can  have  little  enjoyment 
of  refined  truths — small  sympathy  with  the  good  things  of  the 
world.  It  is  the  very  servility  of  the  senses,  to  make  the  man  dine 
in  his  own  kitchen ;  to  bring  the  repast  laboriously  down  from  the 
drawing-room  of  the  mouth  and  the  saloon  of  the  stomach,  to  the 
place  of  sanded  floors  and  wooden  trenchers.  It  is,  indeed,  a  mat- 
ter of  taste.  For  the  reasons  stated,  we  cling  to  the  upper  story, 
and  the  other  opinion. 

As  soon  as  the  exhaustive  feast  of  the  tongue  is  ended,  the  food 
is  prepared  for  its  next  destination,  and  an  act  of  swallowing  takes 
place ;  the  tongue  rolls  the  morsel  back  into  the  pharynx,  a  cham- 
ber intermediate  between  the  mouth  and  the  gullet;  the  pharynx, 
successively  contracting,  moves  it  down  into  the  latter;  and  this, 
taking  up  the  contraction,  forwards  the  ball  from  point  to  point, 
until  it  reaches  the  upper  or  cardiac  orifice  of  the  stomach.  The 
viscid  saliva  of  the  back  of  the  mouth,  and,  moreover,  all  the  fluids 
supplied,  or  drank,  either  sheathe  the  food,  or  lubricate  the  passage, 
and  make  the  transmission  easy,  and  almost  spontaneous.  Arrived 
at  the  entrance  to  the  stomach,  which  is  shut  by  a  circular  muscle, 
the  food  opens  the  latter,  and  passes  into  the  great  cavity  of  the 
organ.  The  passage  from  the  mouth  to  the  stomach  is  accom- 
plished with  rapidity,  yet  perchance  there  is  a  graduated  absorption 
which  takes  place  more  swiftly  still,  and  leaves  not  even  an  apparent 
break  in  the  absorbent  function  following  the  absorbent  structure. 

At  the  back  of  the  mouth,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  the 
food  becomes  lost  to  our  consciousness;  but  as  in  the  tongue  we 
have  found  manifest  taste  with  invisible  feeding  or  absorption,  so 
here  the  matter  is  reversed,  and  we  have  henceforth  to  contemplate 
manifest  absorption  with  a  latent  sense  of  taste.  Generalizing  the 
functions  of  the  elongated  parts  we  are  enumerating,  we  may  con- 
sider that  the  function  of  taste  or  quality  reigns  throughout  it, 
equally  with  the  function  of  eating  or  quantity;  that  to  the  aliment- 
ary organs,  from  beginning  to  end,  there  can  be  no  substance  with- 
out taste;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  no  taste  without  substance. 

In  the  stomach,  judging  by  what  there  is  done,  what  a  scene  we 
are  about  to  enter  !     What  a  palatial  kitchen,  and  more  than  mo- 


144  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

nasterial  refectory  !  The  sipping  of  aromatic  nectar,  the  brief  and 
elegant  repast  of  that  Apicius,  the  tongue,  are  supplanted  at  this 
lower  board  by  eating  and  drinking  in  downright  earnest.  What  a 
profusion  of  covers  is  made  and  laid  !  What  a  variety  of  solvents, 
sauces,  and  condiments,  both  springing  up  at  call  from  the  blood, 
and  raining  down  from  the  mouth,  into  the  natural  patines  of  the 
meats !  What  a  quenching  of  desires — what  an  end  and  goal  of 
the  world  is  here  !  No  wonder ;  for  the  stomach  sits  for  four  or 
five  assiduous  hours  at  the  same  meal  that  the  dainty  tongue  will 
dispatch  in  a  twentieth  portion  of  the  time.  For  the  stomach  is 
bound  to  supply  the  extended  body,  while  the  tongue  wafts  only 
faery  gifts  to  the  close  and  spiritual  brain. 

The  stomach,  anatomically  speaking,  is  a  vaulted  chamber  con- 
sisting of  three  walls  or  coats  common  to  the  whole  tube.  Its 
inner  wall  is  made  up  of  little  compartments  placed  side  by  side, 
and  which  open  into  its  cavity,  and  differ  in  construction  in  differ- 
ent parts.  These  are  beset  by  a  mesh  of  the  smallest  blood-vessels. 
The  inside  of  the  stomach  forms  a  kind  of  honeycomb  surface 
crowded  with  little  mouths,  and  when  the  organ  is  roused,  red  and 
turgid  with  blood.  At  this  time  also  numerous  little  points  or 
papillae  waken  up  upon  the  membrane,  and  bring  forth  a  dissolvent 
liquid  termed  the  gastric  juice.  These  honeycomb  structures  are 
the  stomachs  of  the  stomach )  the  natural  components  of  the  organ. 

The  muscular  coat  is  the  middle  wall  of  the  stomach.  Its  fibres 
run  circularly,  spirally,  vortically,  in  all  the  writhings  of  stomachic 
taste.  They  are  the  moving  arms  of  the  stomach,  which  enable  it 
to  lay  hold  of  the  food,  and  to  work  and  agitate  it.  The  principle 
of  the  mouth,  the  jaws,  and  the  fingers,  here  ensouls  a  sheet  of 
membrane,  which  extemporizes  shapes  of  every  required  variety. 
Thus  this  seemingly  simple  organ  erects  itself  into  a  thousand  dif- 
ferent apartments,  in  each  of  which  a  peculiar  digestion,  and  a  pe- 
culiar assimilation,  is  proceeding.  This  encameration,  insured  by 
motion  in  the  human  stomach,  is  the  fixed  condition  of  the  part  in 
some  animals,  as  the  camel,  the  ox,  &c,  in  which  one  of  the  sto- 
machs is  formed  of  deep  pouches,  lodging  the  food.  The  body- 
kitchen  of  man  and  carnivorous  animals  is  levelled  away  when  the 
stomach's  meal  is  done :  while  the  kitchen  of  creatures  which  chew 


THE  SCALE  OF  ASSIMILATIONS.  145 

the  cud,  is  a  permanent  building,  in  order  that  eating  may  consume 
the  bulk  of  their  waking  hours. 

So  much  for  the  muscular  coat  of  this  series,  whose  activity  con- 
stantly builds  the  plastic  walls  into  new  and  ever-varying  chambers, 
in  which  the  functions  of  the  place  are  carried  on ;  for  every  pass- 
ing wrinkle  on  the  surface  is  a  fresh  thought  and  artifice  of  diges- 
tion and  assimilation. 

But  as  we  are  not  on  a  medical  quest,  let  us  henceforth  rather 
pursue  the  food  that  is  assimilated,  and  the  organs  which  take,  and 
convey  it,  than  the  portion  which  is  rejected,  or  the  extensive 
system  of  public  works  that  underlies  the  thoroughfares  of  the 
human  city.  Respecting  this  department  it  will  be  sufficient  to 
note  the  principle,  that  series  governs  here  as  elsewhere ;  that  what 
is  renounced  as  useless  by  the  first  cavity  becomes  the  especial  food 
of  the  second;  that  the  leavings  of  the  second  are  the  table  of  the 
third ;  and  finally  that  what  is  of  no  use  to  the  animal  kingdom 
becomes  the  support  of  the  vegetable  world.  Thus  the  purposes 
of  the  aliment  are  drawn  forth  one  by  one  in  regular  order,  and 
with  a  thrift  that  can  go  no  further,  the  last  use  returns  to  the  first, 
in  the  fertility  of  the  earth,  in  the  precious  yield  of  the  plant,  and 
in  the  support  of  the  animal,  which  reverts  to  the  human  body  by 
this  circle  of  renunciation  and  absorption. 

Let  us  now  note  the  distinct  divisions  or  joints  of  the  alimentary 
tube,  which  prove  that  a  series  of  different  digestions  and  assimila- 
tions are  performed  therein.  Observe  the  mouth,  which  is  guarded 
by  the  lips,  and  then  by  the  teeth,  against  any  unmeet  intrusion  of 
the  food.  This  is  the  type  of  what  takes  place  five  times  over  in 
the  lower  parts  of  the  series.  Thus  the  entrance  to  the  pharynx 
and  gullet  is  analogously  guarded.  The  entrance  to  the  stomach  is 
secured  by  strong  muscular  lips,  which  are  only  opened  by  the  mus- 
cular wave  flowing  down  the  oesophagus,  and  playing  upon  the  wedge 
of  food.  The  exit  from  the  stomach  is  a  similar  lip  or  ring,  which 
is  likewise  opened  by  the  successive  action  of  the  stomach  and  the 
aliment.  And  so  forth.  The  cause  therefore  which  determines 
the  passage  of  the  food  from  cavity  to  cavity,  is  that  the  first  cavity 
has  assimilated  its  portion,  and  digested  its  portion,  and  having  no 
longer  any  affinity  for  the  latter,  the  walls  contract  against  it,  and 


146  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

send  it  down  stairs,  where  it  is  received  or  wanted  by  the  next 
chamber ;  which  in  like  manner  exhausts,  digests,  and  detrudes  it. 
In  this  wise  the  successive  digestion  by  the  agency  of  the  succes- 
sive muscular  coats,  is  the  means  of  sending  the  aliment  from  stage 
to  stage  of  its  useful  journey. 

In  health  however  there  is  no  intrusion  from  above  downwards, 
which  is  not  commanded  by  an  equal  attraction  from  beneath.  The 
food  lies  upon  the  plate,  and  the  man  and  the  mouth  voluntarily  take 
it.  Eating  and  drinking  are  quad  voluntary  all  the  way  down  as  in  this 
first  instance  at  the  top.  Whatever  violence  of  supply  is  superadded, 
is  the  answer  to  a  greater  urgency  of  demand ;  for  the  intestines  be- 
come bigger  as  they  proceed,  and  more  and  more  ravenous.  The 
lower  belly,  hollow  by  nature,  calls  to  the  upper  with  loud  Halloos. 
But  the  consequence  of  any  force  unsolicited  from  below,  is  seen 
in  a  lively  image  when  food  is  thrust  down  our  throats  without  our 
consent,  in  which  case  we  cannot  swallow  it.  And  just  as  jealous 
as  the  man,  is  the  stomach,  and  are  the  intestines,  of  having  any- 
thing thrust  down  their  throats.  So  food  to  which  we  are  averse, 
rouses  the  hostility  of  the  whole  line,  and  is  successively  unswal- 
lowed  by  part  after  part;  for  swallowing  in  its  finer  meanings, 
blends  with  digestion.  Many  facts  prove  this  case,  and  also  that  a 
series  of  instincts  or  voices  are  located  in  the  tube,  which  command 
or  refuse  particular  aliments. 

But  the  series  of  parts  has  a  series  of  powers  whose  existence  is 
written  upon  the  forms  of  the  organs.  The  velvety  palpation  of 
the  food  by  the  lips,  its  reduction  by  the  teeth,  the  warm  squeeze 
of  parts  and  juices  by  the  tongue,  are  again  the  exemplars  of  all 
the  forces  and  actions  which  succeed  them.  There  is  however 
nothing  so  violently  physical  in  any  other  part  of  the  tube  as  in 
the  mouth,  but  motion,  warmth,  long  delay,  incessant  working,  and 
the  semi-chemical  forces  of  certain  fluids,  perform  changes  which 
arc  in  reality  far  more  sweeping,  without  the  assistance  of  any  rude 
agency.  Nevertheless  from  the  stomach  the  muscular  powers  and 
opposing  surfaces  become  more  forcible  and  urgent,  and  thrash  out 
the  last  grain  from  the  chaff  with  somewhat  of  indignant  exaspera- 
tion. 

As  the  point  of  this  series  of  muscular  forces  there  is  a  corres- 


ORGANIC  PROPERTIES  OF  THE  SALIVA.  147 

ponding  series  of  solvent  fluids.  These  are  the  wheels  of  the  diges- 
tive chariot,  carrying  its  passengers  either  inwards  as  food,  or  out- 
wards as  drainage,  for  food  and  drainage  are  the  same  problem 
applied  to  two  different  worlds,  the  animal  and  the  vegetable,  and 
constipation  whether  in  a  town  or  an  individual,  whether  in  gut  or 
in  sewer,  is  a  limit  to  the  circle  of  nutrition.  Now  of  all  the 
solvent  and  locomotive  fluids,  the  saliva,  so  called  from  its  salty  pro- 
perties, is  the  head  and  the  type.  It  is  the  vehicle  and  the  flux  of 
the  particles  which  it  liberates  from  the  food.  These  it  dilutes, 
softens,  and  dissolves  ',  draws  forth  their  essences  ;  alters  them  into 
suitable  forms;  sheathes  the  latter,  and  enables  them  to  glide 
through  the  pores  which  carry  them  to  their  destination  in  the 
chyle  or  the  blood.  These  are  organic  properties  of  the  saliva,  as 
declared  by  its  acts.  But  each  joint  of  the  tube  has  its  specific 
saliva,  in  addition  to  the  previous  fluid  that  descends  from  above. 
The  saliva  of  the  stomach  is  the  gastric  juice.  This  saliva  the 
stomach  can  digest,  and  leave  it  mild,  or  grind  it  sharp,  according 
to  the  materials  upon  which  it  is  to  act.  It  can  vary  the  fluid,  and 
suit  the  condiment,  to  its  own  want  and  palate.  Moreover  it  can 
modify  the  heat  which  is  disengaged,  and  alter  the  shape  and  inten- 
sity of  its  own  culinary  fire,  fueling  it  well,  and  stirring  it  up,  as 
the  viands  require.  This  the  stomach  chiefly  effects  by  the  opening 
of  the  saliva  itself,  when  the  vital  fire  comes  cheerily  forth,  and 
eats  up  the  chemical  heat  which  is  also  disengaged.  The  saliva  of 
the  next  compartment  is  the  threefold  contribution  of  the  liver,  the 
gall-bladder  and  the  pancreas.  This  triple-headed  saliva  is  more 
raging  and  terribly  chemical  than  what  went  before  it,  and  wastes 
and  melts  the  food  with  gross  heat  and  uncompromising  persecution. 
Nor  are  there  wanting  other  fluids  suited  in  a  series  to  all  the 
offices  of  these  elongated  tables.  The  point  to  be  kept  in  memory 
is,  that  there  exists  a  commonwealth  of  salivas,  and  that  the  saliva 
of  each  part  is  derived  into  the  next  when  its  proper  uses  have  been 
accomplished.  These  uses  have  been  already  enumerated  in  part. 
In  the  first  place  they  consist  in  the  business  of  absorption,  of  which 
they  are  the  primary  medium ;  in  the  last,  in  the  work  of  rejec- 
tion, of  which  they  are  at  once  the  measure  and  the  stimulant. 
"We  now  come  to  the  series  of  matters  realized  or  absorbed.     The 


148  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

food  of  the  mouth  is  the  freest,  comprising  the  particles  which  only 
require  the  moving  opportunity  offered  by  the  teeth  and  the  tongue, 
to  quit  their  former  attachments  in  the  substance  they  belonged  to, 
and  to  rise  at  once  into  the  new  society  whither  they  are  bound. 
They  put  off  their  bodies  with  nimble  ease,  and  are  presently  at 
home  among  the  particles  and  occupations  of  the  human  form. 
The  grosser  molecules  never  miss  them,  or  know  how  they  go  in,  or 
whither  they  have  gone.  The  most  living  saliva,  wing-footed  as 
Mercury,  spirits  them  in  by  the  secret  paths  which  it  has  trodden 
perhaps  often,  and  of  its  own  nature  knows  so  well. 

The  food  of  the  stomach,  immeasurably  more  bulky,  and  subject 
to  greater  and  longer  probations,  yet  passes  immediately  into  the 
hungry  blood :  the  little  veins  which  stand  open-throated  on  every 
portion  of  the  distinctly  ventriculated  surface,  carry  crowds  of  these 
slower  individuals  into  the  bosom  of  the  abdominal  circulation.  The 
alimentary  mass  reduced  into  chyme  in  the  stomach,  yields  its  re- 
luctant vintage  directly  to  the  blood.  The  possibility  of  an  imme- 
diate reception  of  the  food  by  the  blood,  appears  for  the  most  part 
to  end  with  the  stomach ;  the  way  for  the  next  order  of  particles  is 
long  and  difficult,  and  the  preparation  corresponding.  Beyond  the 
stomach  a  lower  order  of  vessels  than  the  veins  receives  the  food, 
namely,  the  lacteals;  there  is  an  intermediate  school  between  the 
food  and  the  blood,  namely,  the  chyle.  These  lac  teals  arising  from 
the  alimentary  tube,  but  decreasing  in  number  in  its  lower  parts, 
where  there  is  less  of  the  milky  chyle  to  absorb,  converge  from  the 
intestines  to  the  receptacle  of  the  chyle,  a  small  reservoir  seated  in 
front  of  the  lower  vertebras;  this  reservoir  is  then  continued  up- 
wards in  a  fine  pipe  called  the  thoracic  duct,  and  runs  all  the  way 
to  the  left  side  of  the  neck,  where  it  runs  into  the  fork  of  a  great 
vein  that  pours  its  blood  directly  into  the  right  side  of  the  heart. 
A  long  passage  for  the  chyle,  contrasted  with  the  short  cut  which 
the  higher  portions  of  the  food  enjoy,  to  their  desired  haven  in  the 
blood !  "We  infer  from  this,  the  comparative  imperfection  of  the 
chyle,  vexed  as  it  is  with  such  abundant  trials,  and  ultimately  let 
in  through  the  intervention  of  a  peculiar  saliva,  termed  the  lymph. 
This  lymph  is  brought  by  the  lymphatics  from  all  parts  of  the  frame 
to  the  same  receptacle  and  duct :   it  is  the  old  spirit  of  the  blood 


INTESTINE  SERIES  OF  FOODS.  149 

serving  to  inaugurate  the  new  body,  and  thus  is  the  last  of  the  sali- 
vas, which  digests  and  introduces  the  chyle  itself  as  the  other  sali- 
vary fluids  digest  and  alter  the  food. 

As  a  corollary  of  this  we  may  infer,  that  delicious,  pleasant  and 
agreeable  foods  contain  a  native  series  of  offerings  to  our  intestine 
wants.  Fruits,  aromatic  and  luscious,  hold  their  delights  the  loosest 
of  all,  and  give  them  away  at  the  first  solicitation.  Their  nectars 
claim  instant  kindred  with  the  tongue  and  the  oral  saliva.  Na- 
ture has  cooked  them,  and  they  need  no  mixture,  nor  artificial  fire : 
the  grape  and  the  pineapple  are  a  sauce  unto  themselves,  and  are 
baked  and  roasted  and  boiled  in  the  sunlight.  They  are  at  the  top 
of  their  life  at  the  table ;  their  niceness  is  not  foreign,  nor  does  their 
beauty  depend  upon  disguise.  By  feeding  the  eyes  with  bloom  and 
loveliness,  they  call  forth  a  chaster  saliva  into  the  mouth  to  wel- 
come and  introduce  them;  different  from  the  carnal  gush  which  sa- 
vory meats  engender.  They  are  flasks  of  the  spiritual  blood  of  the 
earth,  of  the  kith  of  our  tree  of  life,  and  nearer  to  it  than  aught  be- 
sides, unless  it  be  the  mother's  milk.  The  term  fruit  implies  that 
which  is  for  use,  or  which  has  attained  its  own  object,  and  seeks  its 
place  in  another  system.  Fruits  therefore  hang  before  our  mouths, 
and  tempt  us  by  nature's  sweetest  wiles ;  as  it  were  the  nipples  of 
her  bosom,  which  still  run  pure  with  rills  of  the  milk  of  her  ancient 
kindness.  They  belong  essentially  to  mouth  digestion,  which  is  mere 
melting. 

Meats  belong  to  the  lower  man — to  the  blood  and  the  chyle. 
Animal  life  has  diverted  them  to  itself,  and  the  spirit  of  the  beast 
has  to  be  exorcised  ere  they  can  enter  the  human  body.  They  de- 
mand a  long  and  severe  process  of  reformation  and  excretion ;  artful 
fire  and  elaborate  treatment  before  their  preoccupation  is  put  aside. 
They  are  proper  to  the  belly,  and  are  the  taskmasters  of  digestion. 
Vegetables  are,  in  these  respects,  intermediate  between  meats  and 
fruits ;  and  milk,  eggs,  and  the  like  products,  which  are  the  fruits 
that  animals  yield  us,  are  also  intermediates  put  forth  from  the  ani- 
mal side.  As  we  said  before,  the  modern  man  requires  all  these 
viands  to  supply  his  different  natures,  seated  one  after  another 
adown  the  long  hungers  of  his  entrails. 

Let  us  then  assimilate  this  idea  in  passing  onwards,  that  every 

13* 


150  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

step  of  the  alimentary  tube  has  its  distinct  food;  and  let  us  be  sure 
that  these  great  varieties  are  necessary  to  the  maintenance  of  the 
human  blood,  that  the  spirit  may  come  down  into  the  world  thereby, 
through  its  own  mysterious  process  of  avatars  and  incarnations. 

But  in  this  extensive  system,  for  aught  that  we  have  hitherto 
said,  the  parts  might  be  deficient  in  unity,  and  want  active  combi- 
nation. Have  we  then  left  out  no  fact  in  our  treatment  of  these 
straggling  organs?  Undoubtedly,  for  we  have  said  nothing  of  the 
motion  that  we  feel  pervading  the  belly,  and  whose  use  should  be 
as  palpable  as  its  existence :  we  have  taken  no  account  of  the  alter- 
nate movements  of  the  lungs,  "which  press  and  actuate  the  inferior 
viscera  as  the  atmospheres  press  and  actuate  the  earth."  Now  the 
grand  effects  of  the  body  depend  upon  this  actuation  of  the  lungs  : 
it  is  the  source  of  mechanical  power  to  the  whole  of  the  organs. 
This  is  manifest  in  the  alimentary  tube.  When  portions  of  this 
tube  are  exposed  to  sight,  or  removed  from  the  rest,  they  still  ex- 
hibit a  creeping  or  peristaltic  motion.  This  is  their  last  individual 
effort,  when  they  have  lost  the  support  of  the  neighboring  organs, 
and  the  fulcrum  of  the  skin  and  muscles ;  and  it  is  vague  and  inde- 
terminate. They  still  indeed  move  for  a  brief  space,  though  no 
lungs  draw  them,  because  everything  in  the  body  is  constructed  to 
do  of  itself,  as  far  as  may  be,  whatever  other  parts  do  for  it ;  so  little 
is  man's  work  physical,  and  so  helpful  are  all  things  to  all  things. 
But  this  individual  life,  though  it  exists,  cannot  of  itself  maintain 
itself.  Before,  however,  the  machine  is  broken  into,  the  movement 
of  these  parts  is  rhythmical  and  exact,  chiming  with  the  motions  of 
the  breath.  For  the  gullet  runs  down  through  the  lungs,  and 
necessarily  obeys  their  attractions,  and  as  necessarily  rolls  onward 
its  motion  to  the  subsequent  structures.  As  for  the  stomach  and 
abdominal  organs,  we  know  by  touch  that  they  are  subject  to  recip- 
rocal breathings  coming  down  from  above.  The  same  is  the  case 
with  the  lacteals  and  the  thoracic  duct,  which  latter  runs  up,  as  the 
gullet  down,  through  the  active  space  of  the  chest — the  air-pump 
of  the  frame.  Thus  the  digestive  series,  from  the  mouth  of  the  lips 
to  the  mouth  of  the  subclavian  vein,  and  including  the  myriads  of 
mouths  between  the  two,  eats  and  drinks  (for  the  two  are  no  longer 
two  in  assimilation)  in  alternate  moments,  as  the  lungs  draw  in 


THE  END  OF  ASSIMILATION.  151 

their  food,  the  air;  and  in  the  next  moment  swallows  along  the 
whole  line;  then  eats  again;  and  so  forth.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
the  lungs  are  continually  drawing  up  the  food  to  the  blood,  which 
is  seconded  by  every  point  of  the  tube,  successively  contracting  and 
expelling  it ;  somewhat  as  the  arteries  contract  upon  the  blood,  and 
produce  the  pulse.  And  by  the  same  agency,  through  the  general 
framework  of  the  body,  the  lungs  harmonize  and  combine  these 
creeping  parts  and  their  motions,  peristaltic  and  vermicular,  into  one 
coordinate  system. 

We  have  seen  above  that  the  work  of  assimilation  terminates  in 
the  blood,  in  the  introduction  of  new  elements  into  the  living  circle, 
and  we  have  to  note  that  the  blood  itself,  so  soon  as  it  is  formed, 
begins  to  undergo  the  process  of  regeneration,  or  to  be  eaten  by 
higher  purposes  and  powers,  and  charged  with  impurities  that  must 
be  put  aside.  Thus  as  there  is  a  scale  of  stages  leading  upwards 
from  the  food  to  the  blood,  there  is  a  parallel  scale  leading  down- 
wards from  the  blood,  and  consisting  of  its  excretions,  or  the  various 
salivas,  which  come  out  of  the  system  near  the  spots  where  the  new 
materials  are  entering  it,  and  uniting  with  the  latter,  as  the  similar 
old  with  the  similar  young,  lead  them  to  a  certain  distance  through 
the  first  schools  that  conduct  them  towards  their  destination  in  the 
organs. 

"What  is  the  end  in  view  in  all  this  digestion  and  assimilation? 
In  one  sense,  the  formation  of  the  blood;  but  let  us  advance  beyond 
this  answer,  and  inquire  after  the  human  end  for  which  we  instinct- 
ively, and  our  bodies  organically,  appropriate  the  substances  of  the 
external  universe.  The  end  is,  that  we  may  live  in  the  world  by 
means  of  a  body  derived  from  the  world,  and  representing  the  world. 
Each  place  has  its  laws,  and  when  we  are  at  Home  we  must  do  as 
the  Romans.  To  be  full  freedmen  of  nature,  we  require  to  be  allied 
to  her  by  our  constitution ;  to  marry  into  all  her  royal  families ;  and 
to  take  a  body  from  every  kingdom,  in  order  that  we  may  enter, 
inhabit,  appreciate  and  understand  it.  The  sense  of  taste,  and  that 
alimentary  series  which  we  have  been  considering,  afford  us  our 
material  embodiment,  by  which  we  are  brought  into  fellowship  with 
the  mineral,  vegetable  and  animal  kingdoms ;  the  sense  of  smell  and 
the  pulmonary  series  draw  down  our  aerial  food,  by  which  we  gain 


152  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

the  freedom  of  the  atmosphere;  finally,  the  brain  is  the  governor  of 
assimilation,  and  compasses  on  our  behalf  the  ethers  and  spaces  of 
the  mundane  system,  introducing  us  to  the  illimitable  spheres.  The 
human  body,  as  Pan's  last  flock,  crops  every  nature  that  it  touches. 
The  highest  organization  also  coincides  in  this  with  the  lowest,  that 
it  is  an  omnivorous  stomach,  which  has  the  senses  and  faculties  of 
human  kind  domesticated  as  tastes  in  its  comprehensive  cellwork. 
And  so  by  a  just  divination,  the  word  taste  is  synonymous  with  what- 
ever is  refined  and  of  good  fashion  in  the  objects  of  our  knowledge. 
And  in  the  process  of  assimilation,  and  the  parallel  process  of 
nutrition,  we  are  to  consider  that  day  by  day,  and  year  by  year,  the 
spiritual  essence  is  assiduous  to  constitute  the  body  in  its  likeness ; 
this  being  the  reason  of  the  vast  series  of  materials  supplied  by  the 
earth  and  the  atmospheres;  of  the  various  influences  brought  to  bear ; 
of  the  manifold  changes  and  purifications  that  occur  momentaneously 
in  the  body  itself;  of  the  stupendous  chemistry  and  growth  carried 
on  there : — all  with  a  view  to  bring  forth,  and  support,  a  piece  of 
nature,  which  shall  availably  correspond  to  the  soul,  to  which,  how- 
ever, nothing  in  the  world  can  more  than  conveniently  approximate. 
This  ever-nearing,  ever-distant  correspondency  of  the  soul,  is  the 
human  body,  whose  form  or  plan  is  spiritual,  or  from  the  spiritual, 
and  only  the  matter  of  its  seeming  is  material. 

It  is  wonderful  indeed  how  this  correspondence  is  maintained  dur- 
ing our  quickest  variations.  We  sleep  and  wrestle,  work  and  play, 
weep  and  laugh,  with  the  same  body,  which  answers  equally  to  all 
these  states.  Every  passion,  as  a  human  extense,  uses  the  person 
of  this  dramatic  frame,  in  which  all  that  we  do,  or  can  do,  is  con- 
templated from  the  first.  This  is  notorious  from  the  countenance, 
which  assimilates  with  the  momentary  spirit.  The  world  also  and 
circumstance  are  as  flexible  and  correspondent:  according  to  our 
wants,  they  feed  us  with  good  or  evil,  and  bend  about  to  the  whole 
exigency  and  gladiatorship  of  the  spirit.  The  soul  distils  the  food 
not  into  chemicals  and  gases,  but  incarnations  of  its  moods.  Anger 
sops  in  the  same  dish  with  love,  and  both  are  confirmed  at  the  one 
supper.  This  rapid  ensoulment  of  the  alimental  chain  is  especially 
marked  in  the  saliva,  which  as  we  noticed  before  is  a  running  com- 
missary between  the  mind  and  the  food.     The  soul  glitters  down 


THE  EMOTIONS  OF  THE  SALIVA.  153 

upon  its  salts,  and  smites  them  with  the  reigning  love  beam.  They 
become  as  different  at  different  times  and  in  different  persons,  as  the 
billing  of  the  dove  from  the  bite  of  the  rattlesnake,  or  the  sweetest 
milk  from  the  deadliest  poison.  There  is  saliva  full  of  care  and 
sourness,  which  eats,  not  the  food,  but  the  stomach  itself.  There  is 
saliva  charged  with  contempt,  which  is  spit  upon  meanness,  and 
carries  the  badge  from  soul  to  soul  where  it  lights.  There  is  the 
saliva  of  disgust,  which  is  vomited  from  the  loathing  blood,  and 
avenges  our  disgust  upon  the  ground.  There  is  the  spittle  of  self- 
complacency,  elicited  by  the  happy  tongue,  and  too  good  not  to  be 
swallowed.  There  is  the  saliva  of  luxury,  which  runs  greedily  after 
the  meats,  and  loses  its  life  of  immoderateness.  There  is  the  saliva 
of  rage,  which  foams  violently  forth  upon  the  beard,  and  that  of 
haste  and  hurry,  which  froths  and  sputters.  There  is  the  saliva  of 
grief,  hard  to  get  down,  and  full  of  choking.  There  is  the  mouth 
of  fear,  from  which  the  saliva  is  frightened,  and  the  dry  tongue 
cleaves  to  the  palate.  There  are  lovers'  kisses,  in  which  soul  is  fluid 
unto  soul.  In  the  lower  animals  the  saliva  becomes  actively  poison- 
ous, sometimes  by  nature,  sometimes  by  vehemence  and  passion. 
We  might  extend  the  instances  to  every  well-marked  affection,  and 
point  out  the  sympathy  of  the  saliva  with  each.  It  is,  however, 
sufficient  to  observe,  that  this  medium  between  the  food  and  the 
blood  is  the  abode  of  an  ever-varying  life,  according  to  which  it  sum- 
mons from  the  food  the  pabulum  of  that  very  life,  making  the  new 
elements  of  the  body  into  vehicles  and  implements  of  the  inclina- 
tions. Were  it  not  for  this,  every  meal  would  disarrange  the  har- 
mony between  the  body  and  the  soul,  by  furnishing  materials  that 
could  not  become  incorporated.* 

Recurring  for  a  moment  to  the  act  of  spitting,  it  teaches  us  that 
the  casting  out  of  evil  spirits  is  a  branch  of  bodily  truths.  The 
excretions  are  emotional,  i.  e.,  they  are  excretions  of  the  emotions 
themselves,  and  as  they  pass  off,  they  help  to  rid  the  body  of  dis- 
turbances.    Speech  is  an  excretion  from   an  overburdened  heart; 

*  We  postpone  speaking  of  the  psychology  of  the  abdominal  organs  until  we 
treat  of  the  heart,  when  we  shall  offer  some  general  remarks  on  the  life  and 
feelings  of  the  viscera.  In  anticipation  we  assure  the  reader,  that  these  parts 
belong  to  the  soul  as  much  as  the  brain  itself. 


154  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

we  tell  our  sorrows  and  halve  them.  Tears  abate  the  grief  which 
they  carry  and  signify,  for  they  roll  it  out.  The  excretion  of  the 
bile  affords  a  similar  vehicle  and  relief  for  other  strongly  troublous 
states.  The  saliva,  full  of  melted  feelings,  is  very  busy  in  these 
clearances.  Filthy  odors  assailing  the  sense  and  striking  foul  upon 
the  mind,  are  rejected  and  forgotten  by  the  satisfaction  of  spitting. 
It  is  not  merely  the  material  but  the  animal  sense,  not  only  odor 
but  idea,  that  is  thus  cast  out :  were  it  the  former  alone,  the  nose 
ought  to  be  blown  and  not  the  mouth  cleared :  whereas  stenches 
cause  the  holding  of  the  nose  :  the  fingers  nip  it  to  take  no  more, 
while  the  downright  mouth  acquits  us  of  that  which  is  already. 
The  motion  concerned  in  rejection  goes  some  way  towards  the  rid- 
dance of  the  mind ;  hence  inner  annoyances  of  various  kinds  cause 
shocks,  muscular  twitches,  efforts,  throes,  and  in  short  bodily  strug- 
gles, by  which  their  effect  is  not  only  symbolized,  but  in  part  thrown 
away.  Nature  begins  the  cure  of  diseases  in  their  own  first  results 
upon  the  instincts.  It  is  where  no  excretion  or  movement  occur 
that  trouble  works  with  terrible  energy  upon  the  vitals  :  the  dry 
eye  of  great  grief  is  nearly  insane ;  its  motionless  attitude  is  the 
frost  of  catalepsy.  But  the  subject  of  "casting  out"  requires  a  vol- 
ume. As  a  practice  it  is  resorted  to  unconsciously  every  day  in 
medicine,  which  stimulates  the  excretions.  We  are  most  familiar 
with  its  rationale  in  our  Saviour's  casting  out  of  the  devils,  and 
their  entrance  into  the  herd  of  swine,  as  it  were  the  carnal  salivary 
medium  which  conducted  Satan  to  Satan,  or  spat  the  devils  into  the 
deep.  This  miracle  is  no  isolated  case,  but  has  little  miracles  of  a 
similar  kind  and  from  the  same  God,  happening  constantly  in  our 
bodies,  the  name  of  whose  troubles  also  is  legion.  I  do  not  know 
whether  this  be  not  the  prime  law  of  excrementitious  rejection.  It 
is  morally  true  also,  for  we  have  the  power  of  clearing  the  mind 
through  its  nutrient  tube,  the  memory,  when  evil  contents  come  in, 
by  refusing  to  think  of  them,  and  rejecting  them.  The  excretional 
herd  is  always  ready,  and  the  infernals  beseech  to  pass  into  the  pigs 
as  soon  as  the  whole  man  is  against  them,  or  the  divine  power  is 
fully  present. 

We  have  further  testimony  to  the  ensoulment  of  the  tube  in  the 
play  of  the  emotions  upon  the  appetite  of  hunger.     Who  does  not 


THE  EMOTIONS  OF  THE  SALIVA.  155 

know  that  the  stomach  may  be  hungry,  and  provision  at  hand,  and 
yet  the  receipt  of  painful  news,  a  tale  of  horror,  the  arising  of  dis- 
putes, or  the  suggestion  of  anxieties,  may,  in  a  moment,  not  only 
expunge  the  sensation  of  hunger,  but  produce  a  loathing  worse  than 
heavy  satiety?  The  organic  mind  will  not  extend  its  miseries  by 
feeding  them.  But  when  it  is  in  peaceful  outflow,  respiring  un- 
hindered action,  the  appropriation  of  food  which  supports  it  is  de- 
lightful. Cseteris  paribus,  peaceful  workers  have  the  best  appe- 
tites, and  can  consume  the  most  with  benefit.  Peace,  indeed,  is  the 
eating-time  of  whatever  is  best  in  our  informations  j  it  is  the  spirit- 
ual world  of  the  satisfactions  of  conviviality.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  time  of  trial  is  the  time  of  fasting,  and  it  is  only  afterwards 
that  we  are  again  an  hungered. 

Let  us  then  remember,  that  every  permanent  passion  that  we 
cherish,  dines  with  us  at  every  table ;  and  that  as  for  temporary 
conditions,  tranquillity  can  eat,  but  strong  emotions  go  to  suspend 
the  want  of  food,  that  they  ma.y  use  the  time  for  their  own  work. 

The  subject  of  food  subdivides  itself  into  quantity  and  quality. 
A  certain  assured  amount  of  provision — a  decent  minimum — is  the 
ground  of  further  wants.  This  annuls  those  distressing  anxieties 
that  consume  the  stomach,  and  make  it  the  seat  of  care  instead  of 
exhilaration  for  a  large  portion  of  our  fellow  men.  Under  these 
circumstances  the  body  feeds  upon  itself,  only  miserable  sensations 
are  alive,  and  the  mind  has  neither  leisure  nor  wish  to  pursue  its 
own  avocations.  But  when  the  first  demand  is  satisfied,  quality  and 
variety  are  the  next  necessities  to  be  considered.  And  here  there 
is  room  for  a  new  gastronomy,  to  instruct  us  under  all  circumstances 
and  seasons,  what  nutrient  matters,  and  what  artificial  compounds 
and  alterations  of  these,  will  enable  the  body  to  carry  forward  hap- 
pily the  various  works  required  at  our  hands.  We  know  that  the 
mind  can  modify  the  frame  to  almost  any  extent  by  the  manner  of 
feeding  it:  by  the  substances  introduced  we  already  produce  the 
baser  conditions,  of  fatness,  intoxication,  stupidity,  ferocity;  and  it 
must  be  the  business  of  a  charitable  science  to  reverse  the  direction, 
and  to  feed  the  industries  and  virtues  with  their  daily  bread,  from 
among  the  riches  in  this  kind  which  the  earth  is  instructed  to  yield. 
There  is  not  an  emotion  however  retiring,  not  a  thought  however 


156  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

fine,  not  an  action  however  skillful,  but  may  be  carried  into  further 
and  more  exquisite  perfection  by  some  helpmate  from  the  social 
board,  when  humanity  there  enlarges  its  heart,  and  brightens  its 
calculating  cheerfulness. 

With  respect  to  diet,  however,  it  is  as  various  as  days  and  moods, 
and  in  the  largest  sense  no  food  as  digestible  or  indigestible  per  se, 
but  according  to  persons,  times,  and  circumstances.  Private  judg- 
ment, where  it  exists,  has  full  rights  here;  where  it  does  not  exist, 
the  patient  comes  under  dietetic  rules.  Fixed  habits  of  diet  other- 
wise are  a  prison  to  changeable  man,  and  curtail  his  versatility  in 
every  sphere.  His  body  ought  to  oscillate  from  the  middle  ordinary 
point  to  fasting  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  conviviality  on  the  other, 
in  order  that  all  his  faculties  may  be  helped  by  steering  the  appe- 
tites in  the  direction  where  their  power  lies.  Judicious  fasting 
especially  is  to  the  structure  of  the  mind  what  held  breath  and  ex- 
piration is  to  its  movements;  the  abstraction  of  food  corresponds  to 
the  abstraction  of  thought;  without  it  there  are  no  times  of  ascetic 
intellectual  separation,  and  without  these,  an  important  part  of  man 
is  unrepresented.  Moreover,  without  times  of  fasting,  the  tongue 
is  immersed  and  lost  in  its  objects,  whereas  fasting  places  the  whole 
of  diet  at  a  distance,  sees  it  clearly  and  appreciates  it  sharply,  and 
introduces  the  criticism  of  intellect  into  the  gastrosophic  sphere. 
Cooks,  therefore,  require  these  self-denials  for  their  own  business,  as 
well  as  other  Christians  for  theirs.  In  short,  we  find  that  fasting 
answers  to  spiritual  eating,  conviviality  to  human  eating,  and  ordi- 
nary meals,  pleasant  and  calm,  to  the  regulated  private  senses  and 
sensibilities;  which  three  spheres  contribute  to  make  up  the  visceral 
man. 

Nothing  is  more  important  than  society  for  the  useful  pleasures 
of  the  table.  "  Chatted  food,"  the  proverb  says,  "  is  half  digested." 
As  a  rule,  the  solitary  man  does  not  reap  full  advantage  from  his 
cheer.  Setting  aside  that  single  blessedness  is  opposed  to  economy 
and  abundance,  it  also  leaves  out  convivial  mirth,  which  otherwise 
pervades  the  body,  and  gives  sunshine  and  activity  to  its  operations. 
In  the  breaking  of  bread  our  better  eyes  are  opened,  and  the  truths 
of  communion  are  made  known  to  us.  We  all  know  how  very 
much  good  company  enhances  the  enjoyments  of  the  palate;  this  is 


TEETOTALISM.  157 

an  open  sign  of  the  delightful  influence  that  it  exerts  upon  the  en- 
tire work  of  assimilation.  Ancient  habitudes  might  be  imitated  in 
these  respects.  The  hospitalities  of  other  times  enabled  the  guests 
to  digest  hard  things  for  which  their  successors  have  no  stomachs : 
courage  and  clanship  and  bold  ambition  haunted  the  boars'  heads 
and  smoking  beeves,  and  horns  of  mead  and  of  wine.  The  re- 
velers were  firmer  in  friendship,  brighter  in  honor,  softer  in  love, 
and  stronger  in  battle,  for  the  spirits  which  descended  upon  the  hall. 
We,  too,  must  dine  as  our  forefathers,  only  the  board  should  be 
newly  laid  to  invite  down  the  later  graces  of  labor,  justice,  and 
peace.  Our  fight  for  to-day  is  not  with  men,  but  with  the  enemies 
and  difficulties  of  all  men.  Our  honors  are  the  extensions  of  the 
tone  of  peace,  disarming  the  world  by  the  dispersion  of  offences. 
It  is  a  new  supper  of  gathered  rich  and  poor  that  will  refresh 
us  in  this  second  epoch.  Nor  on  grounds  of  mere  utility  should 
the  song  of  the  bard  and  the  replication  of  the  jester  be  absent 
from  a  work  in  which  a  merry  complacency  is  the  springtide  of  the 
season,  and  the  oil  and  smoothness  of  the  whole  machine. 

Let  us  remember,  therefore,  in  passing  from  the  subject,  that  this 
intestine  public  question  implies  the  dispensation  to  all  of  the  due 
quantity  of  the  proper  quality  of  food,  subject  to  the  law  of  variety, 
and  under  the  best  circumstances,  internal  and  external,  or  mental 
and  convivial ;  and  further  that  precarious  modes  of  life,  to  many 
temperaments,  are  incompatible  with  a  healthy  assimilation. 

We  have  postponed  to  this  place  the  subject  of  wine  as  a  part  of 
diet,  because  the  case  of  stimulants  rests  on  human  life,  and  not 
otherwise  on  physiological  laws.  Alcohol  in  its  various  forms  acts 
specifically  upon  the  brain  and  animal  nature,  themselves  the  stimu- 
lants of  the  other  systems  of  the  body.  Teetotalism  on  this  ac- 
count takes  rank  with  vegetarianism,  as  both  of  them  tend  to  reduce 
the  animal  powers. 

What  is  called  "  total  abstinence"  has  claims  which  deserve  to  be 
admitted.  The  abstainer  on  principle  is  generally  workful  to  an 
extraordinary  degree;  has  his  senses  about  him,  such  as  they  are; 
is  equally  cool  and  collected  at  all  parts  of  the  day ;  feels  little  ir- 
ritability from  current  events,  but  bears  and  forbears  well.  This  is 
while  health  and  strength  last.  And  if  he  be  capable  of  fanaticism, 
14 


158  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

or  kindly  speaking,  faith  in  abstinence,  he  may  be  a  strong  man 
through  life  on  cold  water.  His  strength  will  be  in  proportion  to 
his  dose  of  faith.  A  batch  of  abstinence  soldiers  working  in  emu- 
lation against  a  batch  accustomed  to  stimulants,  will  generally  be 
the  conquerors.  New  systems,  and  especially  self-denials,  have  the 
advantage  of  enlisting  faith,  the  wonder-worker.  The  victories  of 
Mohammedanism  were  due  in  part  to  the  combination  of  a  religious 
faith  with  a  faith  in  abstinence;  a  union  of  two  powerful  springs 
affecting  the  soul  and  the  body.  Torrents  of  passion  which  had 
been  wont  to  vent  themselves  in  pleasures,  were  suddenly  stopped 
off,  and  they  burst  through  another  channel,  in  faith  and  energetic 
fighting.  Faiths,  however,  wear  out  in  many  cases,  and  the  truth 
of  things  is  the  ultimate  level,  unaffected  by  mortal  enthusiasm. 

Successful  abstinence  shows  that  stimulation  is  a  law  of  existence, 
for  an  abstinence  neither  hereditary  nor  stimulating  is  not  kept  up. 
The  most  sober  people  have  their  "  pocket  pistols,"  and  take  their 
own  stimulants  as  neat  as  they  can  get  them.  For  there  are  two 
sides  of  the  cellar,  two  decanters  of  spirit,  the  body  and  the  soul. 
Take  away  the  bodily  decanter,  and  life  itself  must  furnish  an  ex- 
citement that  will  be  equivalent.  There  are  other  stimulants  be- 
sides drink  that  cheat  us  of  our  senses,  other  drunkenness  than  that 
of  the  public  house.  Teetotalism  might  be  drunk  with  its  own 
cause,  with  the  additional  indecorum  of  exhibiting  its  disgrace  in 
Exeter  Hall. 

Abstinence  excludes  temperance  or  the  faculty  of  balance,  which 
communicates  with  reason,  the  temperance  of  the  upper  degree. 
For  the  sake  of  the  evil  it  bans  both  the  good  and  the  evil.  It  is 
the  suicide  of  choice.  Similarly,  vowed  celibacy  excludes  chastity, 
and  is  a  knot  tied  in  the  will  against  both  cleanness  and  uncleanness. 
This  is  not  healing,  but  castration.  But  there  are  those  who  require 
these  extirpations,  at  least  with  our  present  means  of  cure.  "  If 
thine  eye  offend  thee,  pluck  it  out  and  cast  it  from  thee;  if  thy 
right  hand  offend  thee,  cut  it  off.  It  is  better  for  thee  to  enter  into 
life,"  &c.  &c.  Thence  we  note  that  total  abstinence  is  a  thing  com- 
manded, and  a  means  entering  into  an  ultimate  plan  of  fulness  of 
life.     But  there  is  an  if  in  the  case — "  If  thine  eye  offend  thee !" 

Teetotalism  reasons  without  this  if  and  brandishes  its  surgical 


TEETOTALISM.  159 

vow  over  temperate  and  intemperate  alike.  It  goes  to  science  and 
morals  for  corroborations.  It  says  that  intoxication  is  poisoning, 
and  that  poisons  are  like  themselves  in  their  least  doses  as  in  their 
greatest.  There  is  a  mistake  here  founded  upon  an  etymology. 
Poison  is  one  thing,  and  stimulus  is  another.  Poisons  destroy  the 
structure,  or  subvert  the  functions  of  the  body;  stimuli  kindle  it 
into  life  and  exhaust  it  into  repose,  or  even  death  if  their  action  be 
excessive.  The  sleep  of  the  night  is  nature's  recovery  from  the 
excitement  of  the  clay.  The  sleep  of  death  is  the  spirit's  recovery 
from  the  lifetime.  Our  machines  are  meant  to  wear  out,  and  sti- 
muli are  the  wearers.  The  organs  of  the  body  and  mind  live  by 
stimuli,  which  in  temperance  animate,  and  in  excess  destroy  them. 
Light  is  the  stimulus  of  the  eye,  but  its  intensity  will  extinguish 
sight;  yet  is  it  no  poison  even  when  its  glare  is  destructive.  We 
do  not  "  totally  abstain"  from  light,  though  a  part  of  our  brethren 
have  weak  eyes,  and  are  ordered  into  dark  rooms.  Sound,  which  in 
voice  and  music  makes  the  ear  alive,  deadens  hearing  when  too 
loud,  and  destroys  the  sense.  In  short,  the  sensible  world  is  one 
great  excitement  to  carry  man  beyond  his  first  organic  water.  Joy, 
too,  the  wine  of  the  soul,  will  kill  by  its  abundance  and  unexpect- 
edness, and  yet  it  is  next  of  kin  to  the  life  that  its  overmuchness 
withers.  High  truth  intoxicates  those  not  fit  to  drink  it;  causing 
oftentimes  madness  from  its  misapprehension  and  abuse ;  causing 
still  more  frequently  need  of  rest,  to  recover  from  its  dazzling  reve- 
lations. We  repeat  that  man  lives  by  stimuli,  any  of  which,  ad- 
ministered in  too  great  quantity,  too  often,  or  too  fast,  may  cause 
destruction  or  suspension  of  life.  Yet  none  of  them  is,  therefore,  a 
poison.  Just  as  little  can  we  so  denominate  alcohol,  from  the  fact 
of  its  producing  intoxication  or  death.  For  every  stimulus  carried 
to  excess  has  the  like  effects,  and,  in  all  the  cases,  the  excess  is  repre- 
hensible, but  the  stimulus  natural.  Our  Saxon  word  Drunkenness 
bears  no  poisonous  sense;  it  is  merely  the  far-gone  past  participle  of 
Drink  made  substantive. 

In  truth  poison  differs  from  stimulus  as  medicine  from  food,  for 
poisons  in  little  doses  are  medicines,  and  food  in  its  greatest  concen- 
tration is  stimulus.  The  plainest  food  will  kill  in  too  great  quan- 
tity.    And  then  again,  medicinal  substances,  as  coffee,  tea,  &c, 


160  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

come  into  dietetic  use.  Yet  we  cannot  infer  that  food  and  medicine 
are  the  same  thing,  though  they  touch  each  other  and  are  not  in- 
compatible at  the  extremes. 

However  this  may  be,  the  nomenclature  of  a  subject  from  its 
abuses  is  inadmissible  :  we  might  as  well  name  rich  and  provocative 
viands  from  gluttony  as  good  wine  from  drunkenness.  We  might 
call  fruits  after  diarrhoea,  plum-pudding  after  vomiting,  or  peas  after 
flatulence.  But  who  would  have  evil  courage  enough  to  go  through 
with  such  a  dictionary  ? 

But  here  the  chemists  occur,  and  tell  us  that  alcohol  is  never 
absorbed  j  they  have  smelt  the  brains  of  sots,  and  the  reek  of  un- 
altered liquor  was  manifest  in  the  tissues.  Thence  they  argue  that 
stimulants  are  poisons  which  the  body  naturally  refuses.  We 
distrust  this  argument  from  drunkards  to  humanity  and  from  the 
dead  to  the  living.  Bather  let  good  men's  boards  be  canvassed, 
where  temperance  reigns,  and  let  it  be  seen  whether  there  is  no 
assimilation  of  wine.  Surely  the  flow  of  soul  can  drink  the 
measured  cup,  and  fill  its  mood  better  than  when  the  intellectual  fire 
is  dry.  It  is  at  banquets  like  Plato's  that  wine  is  vindicated. 
Their  guests  show  the  scope  of  human  assimilation.  What  this  is 
in  extenso  may  be  briefly  sketched  in  an  English  fashion.  The 
laborer  wants  the  support  of  labor  in  good  solid  food,  which  under 
the  magic  of  assimilation  becomes  muscle  and  sinew.  The  artisan 
wants  nicer  feeding,  to  support  and  not  overbear  the  finesse  of  his 
fingers.  Intellectual  artisans  need  greater  temperance  still.  We 
are  now  speaking  of  the  hours  of  work.  As  for  stimulants,  the 
laborer  may  moderately  mingle  them  with  his  food ;  the  hayfield 
and  cornfield,  especially  at  cutting  and  reaping  times,  are  wisely  wet 
with  cans  of  wholesome  harvest  ale.  But  as  we  rise  in  the  quality 
of  labor,  work  and  stimulants  are  more  incompatible ;  for  the  edge 
of  the  eye  must  be  sharp  and  hard  to  bear  the  weight  of  the  soul 
behind  it.  So  much  for  work,  which  thus  becomes  ascetic,  or  shall 
we  say,  stimulating  in  itself,  and  intolerant  of  secondary  excite- 
ments. The  case  alters  in  play  hours,  when  a  new  set  of  faculties 
and  feelings,  and  a  new  set  of  assimilations  begin.  The  spirit  of 
play  mates  with  the  spirit  of  wine )  the  pleasant  emotions  and  the 
brilliant  saws  and  dreams  of  society,  like  wine-lilies  naturally  rock 


TEETOTALISM.  161 

upon  the  cup,  and  clip  their  spirity  roots  into  the  beakers.  The 
imaginative  skies  are  vinous  then ;  Valhalla  has  its  mead,  and  great 
Odin  never  eats,  but  all  sustenance  is  liquor  to  Allfather,  who 
drinks  only  wine.  Elysium  too  would  be  a  poor  Elysium  without 
nectar  and  ambrosia.  The  case  is  purely  one  of  assimilation.  If 
the  life  can  drink  the  wine,  and  make  life  of  it,  then  the  wine  is 
food  j  if  the  life  is  overtopped  by  the  wine,  which  lies  in  pools  in  the 
reeking  stomach  and  above  the  swampy  brains,  then  there  is  excess, 
sensuality,  or  spiritual  drowning.  It  is  like  the  case  of  the  horse 
and  his  rider.  Many  are  thrown,  and  break  their  bodies ;  many 
should  never  get  on  horseback ;  some  can  ride  where  their  animal 
is  not  too  spirited  j  and  some  can  back  any  charger  even  were  it 
Bucephalus.  But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  allowance  is  only  to  persons 
in  health,  and  not  to  those  who  have  bodily  ailments,  diseased 
imaginations,  or  predominant  lusts,  or  other  maladies  which  want  a 
physician. 

It  is  now  therefore  obvious  that  we  cannot  take  the  personal 
experience  of  any  man  as  to  abstinence,  beyond  the  limits  of  his 
own  temperament,  business  and  pleasures.  The  different  functions 
to  which  our  employments  convert  our  organs,  require  for  the  or- 
gans different  stimulation  to  put  them  "  into  condition"  for  their 
work.  A  Newton  may  require  to  fast  and  agonize  before  he  can 
end  his  fearful  mathematics,  but  that  is  no  reason  why  our  grooms 
and  gardeners,  with  no  end  of  the  kind,  should  go  through  the  like 
discipline.  The  adjustment  must  be  left  to  experience,  but  it  can- 
not come  from  an  author's  study. 

Thus  the  power  of  assimilating  wine  is  various  in  different  per- 
sons, and  in  the  same  person  at  different  times,  and  a  flexible  sense 
is  necessary,  to  adjust  the  indulgence  to  the  occasion.  Observation 
proves  this,  for  we  can  drink  more  at  some  times  than  at  others, 
and  sometimes  with  impunity  and  great  restoration ;  at  other  times 
we  feel  ill  consequences  which  show  that  we  have  not  judged  wisely 
at  the  boar J. 

Above  all  things  it  is  plain  that  cutting  up  dead  sots  will  not  settle 
the  question.  On  the  contrary,  we  must  dissect  all  the  drinkers, 
temperate  and  intemperate,  and  the  same  man  at  many  different 
times,  to  elicit  the  living  law  of  temperance.     And  first  we  must 

14* 


162  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

dissect  ourselves.  We  know  already  that  the  habitual  abuser  of 
stimulants  is  full  to  the  brim,  and  will  run  over  with  each  fresh 
potation  without  assimilating  it.  He  has  no  digestion  left  for  com- 
mon food,  and  therefore  in  point  of  assimilation  his  case  proves 
nothing.  It  is  the  casual  use  of  wine  according  to  times  and  sea- 
sons, as  Solomon  says,  and  according  to  the  feelings  of  the  hour, 
which  is  life-giving,  healthy  and  enjoyable.  But  whatever  is  good 
becomes,  out  of  its  place,  an  evil.  Air  which  sustains  us,  native 
and  exhilarating  in  the  chest,  is  a  torment  and  insurrection  in  the 
belly.  The  spirit  and  consciousness  of  the  brain,  too  much  poured 
forth  upon  a  spot  of  skin,  are  sensitiveness,  or  agony,  according  to 
the  degree.  The  blood  thrown  down  from  its  vessels  is  a  foreign 
body  and  black  death  in  the  system.  Continence  is  the  case  in 
which  forces  are  safe.  And  so  with  wine,  which  now  and  always 
has  unflawed  goblets  in  some  men's  brains,  from  which  it  is  safely 
drank  by  their  powers,  and  these  of  the  very  highest.  The  ideal 
then  is,  to  emulate  those  chaste  but  intense  qualities  that  enfranchise 
the  favored  guests  of  nature  to  dip  their  cups  in  the  rubies. 

And  if  wine  is  good  to  drink,  it  need  not  be  drank  on  pretexts. 
Men  have  drunk  it  from  the  beginning  for  that  which  is  the  best 
and  the  worst  of  reasons — because  they  like  it.  "  Wine  maketh 
glad  the  heart  of  man" — there  lies  the  fortress  of  its  usage.  To 
the  wise  it  is  the  adjunct  of  society  •  the  launch  of  the  mind  from 
the  care  and  hiuderance  of  the  day ;  the  wheel  of  emotion ;  the 
preparator  of  inventive  idea ;  the  blanclness  of  every  sense  obedient 
to  the  best  impulses  of  the  hours  when  labor  is  done.  Its  use  is  to 
deepen  ease  and  pleasure  on  high-tides  and  at  harvest-homes,  when 
endurance  is  not  required ;  for  delight  has  important  functions,  and 
originates  life  as  it  were  afresh  from  a  childhood  of  sportive  feeling, 
which  must  recur  at  seasons  for  the  most  of  men,  or  motive  itself 
would  stop.  A  second  use  is,  to  enable  us  to  surmount  seasons  of 
physical  and  moral  depression,  and  to  keep  up  the  life-mark  to  a 
constant  level,  influenced  as  little  as  possible  by  the  circumstances 
of  the  hour.  Also  to  show  to  age  by  occasions,  that  its  youth  lies 
still  within  it,  and  may  be  found  like  a  spring  in  a  dry  land  with 
the  thyrsus  for  a  divining  rod.  A  third  use  is,  to  soften  us ;  to 
make  us  kinder  than  our  reason,  and  more  admissive  than  our  can- 


USES  OF  WINE.  163 

dor,  and  to  enable  us  to  begin  larger  sympathies  and  associations 
from  a  state  in  which  the  feelings  are  warm  and  plastic.  A  fourth 
use  is,  to  save  the  resources  of  mental  excitement  by  a  succedaneous 
excitement  of  another  kind,  or  to  balance  the  animation  of  the  soul 
by  the  animation  of  the  body,  so  that  life  may  be  pleasant  as  well 
as  profitable,  and  the  pleasure  be  reckoned  among  the  profits.  A 
fifth  use  is,  to  stimulate  thoughts,  and  to  reveal  men's  powers  to 
themselves  and  their  fellows,  for  in  vino  Veritas,  and  intimacy  is 
born  of  the  blood  of  the  grape.  But  is  it  not  unworthy  of  us  to 
pour  joy's  aid  from  a  decanter,  or  to  count  upon  "  circumstances" 
for  a  delight  which  the  soul  alone  should  furnish  ?  Oh,  no  !  for  by 
Grod's  blessing  the  world  is  a  circumstance ;  our  friends  are  circum- 
stances )  our  wax-lights  and  gaieties  likewise  j  and  all  these  are 
stimuli  and  touch  the  being  within  us ;  and  where  then  is  the  limit 
to  the  application  of  art  and  nature  to  the  soul  ?  At  least,  however, 
our  doctrine  is^  dangerous ;  but  then  fire  is  dangerous,  and  love  is 
dangerous,  and  life  with  its  responsibilities  is  very  dangerous.  All 
strong  things  are  perils  to  one  whose  honor's  path  is  over  hair- 
breadth bridges  and  along  giddy  precipices.  A  sixth  use  is,  to  make 
the  body  more  easily  industrious  in  work  times.  This  is  the  test  of 
temperance  and  the  proof  of  the  other  uses.  That  wine  is  good 
for  us  which  has  no  fumes,  but  which  leaves  us  to  sing  over  our 
daily  labors  with  ruddier  cheeks,  purer  feelings  and  brighter  eyes 
than  water  can  bestow.  The  seventh  use  is,  in  this  highest  form  of 
assimilation,  to  symbolize  the  highest  form  of  communion,  according 
to  the  Testament  which  our  Saviour  left,  and  to  stand  on  the  altar 
as  the  representative  of  spiritual  truth.  All  foods,  as  we  have 
shown  before,  feed  the  soul,  and  this,  on  the  principles  of  a  universal 
symbolism  :  this  then  is  the  highest  use  of  bread  and  wine — to  be 
taken  and  assimilated  in  the  ever-new  spirit  of  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

The  corollary  that  we  draw,  is,  that  total  abstinence  contains 
no  universal  argument ;  that  it  is  an  admirable  strait-waistcoat  for 
many  of  us )  that  abstinence  is  a  needful  discipline  for  every  one 
at  the  most  of  times,  and  then  coincident  with  temperance ;  but 
that  moreover  wine  is  an  indispensable  gift  of  heaven,  and  the  use 
of  it  to  the  sane  an  inalienable  matter  of  private  judgment,  into 


164  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

which  abstinence-leagues,  though  backed  by  medicine  and  chemistry, 
will  find  it  impossible  to  intrude. 

Time  has  not  yet  perhaps  elapsed  sufficient  to  show  the  ultimate 
results  which  follow  to  those  who  steadily  maintain  the  abstinence 
pledge.  We  can  therefore  only  conjecture  that  the  effect  will  be, 
to  dry  up  somewhat  of  those  feelings  which  give  the  body  an  extra- 
ordinary life  when  they  enter  it  well.  And  as  these  feelings  are  the 
horses  of  our  greater  power,  and  when  skillfully  ridden  accomplish 
times  and  spaces  that  are  impossible  without  them,  we  suppose  that 
the  teetotallers  will  be  somewhat  pedestrian  and  prosy,  excepting  in 
the  first  vigorous  days  of  their  self-denials.  But  as  human  nature 
contains  all  wants  represented  in  particular  persons,  there  are  pro- 
bably born  abstainers  from,  as  well  as  born  requirers  of,  wine.  And 
if  some  of  the  most  ordinary  because  passionless  men  are  in  the 
former  class,  they  seem  to  have  with  them  the  men  of  peaceful 
power  and  supermundane  continence,  with  whom  stimulus  is  less 
the  law  of  life  than  a  spiritual  tranquillity  passing  common  under- 
standing. 

The  current  disadvantages  of  vowed  abstinence,  supposing  it  not 
to  be  natural  also,  appear  to  us  to  lie  in  a  certain  dilution  of  the 
powers ;  a  certain  want  of  sleep  in  the  faculties ;  an  unending 
character  in  the  days,  or  a  want  of  difference  between  the  evening 
and  the  morning ;  also  in  a  certain  rigidity  of  reason,  and  a  loss  of 
those  spiritual  chances  which  are  a  part  of  the  empire  of  clairvoy- 
ance and  Providence  in  the  mind  •  and  in  an  undue  incessant 
drift  towards  public,  utilitarian,  and  money-making  enterprise,  to 
compensate  for  the  loss  of  that  stimulus  of  the  heart  which  to  the 
generality  is  of  festive  growth.  But  we  would  speak  modestly  in  a 
case  involving  the  experience  of  others. 

As  for  temperance,  it  may  range  in  respect  of  times  from  a  daily 
moderation  of  wine  to  a  single  annual  glass  dropped  into  the  diet. 
And  as  to  quantity  also,  instinct  and  experience  are  its  compass. 
But  whatever  the  natural  regime,  the  practice  of  temperance  is  a 
divine  blessing  second  only  to  the  use  of  reason.  For  temperance 
is  the  whetstone  of  our  faculty  of  observation,  and  the  axe  of  reform, 
which  is  to  hew  away  forever  at  one  vice  after  another,  is  nowhere  so 
well  sharpened  as  on  its  square  and  eager  sides.     Temperance  again 


VASTNESS  OF  THE  ASSIMILATIVE  FUNCTION.  165 

is  the  home  of  the  virtues  and  powers,  which  shelters  them  in  their 
nonage,  and  which  they  enlarge  and  furnish  in  their  maturity,  until 
it  includes  the  images,  pictures  and  tastes  of  them  all.  Or  again  it 
is  the  native  land  of  man  as  different  from  the  beasts.  Or  to  speak 
without  figure,  temperance,  including  eating  as  well  as  drinking,  is 
the  foundation  of  our  refinement,  as  involving  constant  acts  of 
physical  judgment  or  bodily  wisdom.  Intemperance  is  the  devil 
opposite  to  this  angel,  temperance.  It  dulls  every  sense,  burns  out 
passion  prematurely,  and  turns  the  mild  light  of  intelligence,  as  it 
flickers  towards  extinction,  into  a  horrid  reproach  against  a  swine- 
hood  which  is  reeling  down  to  disciplines  of  which  total  abstinence 
is  but  a  shadow.  For  intemperance  fosters  and  aggravates  nearly 
every  disease  that  flesh  is  heir  to,  and  sharpens  the  power  and  sting 
of  every  sin,  nay,  calls  out  fresh  legions  of  infernals  :  the  ghastly 
troops  of  malady  and  wickedness  deploy  before  it,  and  muster,  as 
on  a  field  day  of  death,  where  excess  of  wine  is  a  prevalent  vice 
among  the  people.* 

But  now  to  recur  to  our  main  subject,  the  vastness  of  the  assim- 
ilative function  may  be  comprehended  from  the  great  agencies  set 
in  motion  by  the  palate  and  the  stomach.  The  skin  or  cloth-making 
spirit  enjoys  a  considerable  realm,  but  the  spirit  of  the  stomach  is 
the  owner  of  three-fourths  of  the  world's  navies,  the  ultimate  land- 
lord of  three-fourths  of  the  cultivable  earth.  Every  sea  is  benetted 
with  the  lacteals  of  the  social  intestines ;  every  road  is  laid  down 
from  men  to  men,  as  a  vessel  for  food.  Agriculture  and  commerce 
in  their  staples  are  an  instinctive  obedience  to  the  claims  of  the 
belly.  Armies  are  the  guardians  of  its  interests ;  and  the  dynasties 
of  a  thousand  years  are  transmitted  in  security,  or  rock  and  dissolve, 
according  to  the  dinners  of  the  people.  Such  is  the  material  force 
conferred  upon  hunger,  thirst  and  assimilation.  And  in  working 
out  this  destiny,  whereby  the  globe  is  remodeled  upon  the  base- 
ment story  of  the  human  body,  and  converges  to  our  mouths  by 
trains  of  produce  from  every  climate,  man  grows  socially  also,  and 

*  To  those  who  wish  to  know  what  can  be  said  chemically,  medically  and 
experimentally  in  favor  of  total  abstinence,  we  recommend  the  perusal  of  Dr. 
Carpenter's  essay,  On  the  Use  and  Abuse  of  Alcoholic  Liquors  in  Health  and 
Disease  ;  8vo.,  London,  1850. 


166  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

becomes  assimilated  to  liis  fellows;  the  merchant  behest  carries  him 
abroad,  and  informs  him  from  other  races ;  the  aroma  of  his  bro- 
ther's industry  clings  to  every  stuff  that  he  brings;  forbidding 
waste  as  the  loss  of  humanity  and  virtue.  Thus  the  organs  that 
assimilate  our  food,  cover  themselves  with  sensibilities,  and  assimi- 
late our  fellows.  And  thus  we  note  that  the  spade-way  or  plough- 
track  of  the  husbandman,  the  paths  of  ships  over  the  sea,  of  cara- 
vans over  the  desert,  and  the  road  with  its  refinements,  are  only 
magnified  images  of  that  which  goes  on  with  intense  smallness  in 
the  assimilative  organs. 

It  is  not  in  the  lower  kingdoms  only  that  assimilation  and  diges- 
tion are  proceeding.  The  plant,  it  is  true,  assimilates  the  mineral, 
and  assimilates  the  atmosphere,  the  fruitful  soil  being  the  amalgam 
of  their  twofold  natures  in  the  one  case,  and  the  active  aroma  in  the 
other.  The  animal  again  digests  all  beneath,  and  fertilizes  all. 
Above  the  lowest  nature  each  thing  is  eater  and  meat,  end  and  be- 
ginning in  succession.  The  external  world  in  its  extent  is  progress- 
ive assimilation  and  refinement.  Through  every  change,  by  a  se- 
cret providence,  the  surface  of  the  planet  is  steadily  fitting  itself  to 
sustain  a  grander  edifice  of  society.  For  this,  the  primitive  forests 
and  their  inhabitants  have  been  industriously  making,  and  shed- 
ding, their  frames,  in  unrcckoned  generations.  For  this,  the  little 
flowers  have  been  working  since  the  first  were  self-sown  from  the 
miraculous  garden.  For  this,  the  earth  has  rested  uncropped  in  the 
balmiest  latitudes,  and  still  the  sun  pours  the  tropical  spirit  on  her 
unexhausted  islands.  For  this,  an  aboriginal  savage  tenantry  lease 
but  as  hunters  the  future  corn-lands  of  a  long-deferred  civilization. 
The  human  body,  also — fallow  and  in  great  part  tenantless  as  the 
planet — shall  it  not  refine  its  organization  century  after  century, 
and  become  the  microcosm  of  a  new  mind,  to  be  connected  with  it 
entirely,  and  to  inhabit  and  cultivate  it  entirely  ? 

And  what  is  the  growth  of  this  mind  itself,  but  renewed  diges- 
tion and  assimilation  ?  In  this  again  the  creation  is  our  food,  but 
which  enters  through  the  mouths  of  the  senses.  Touch,  taste,  smell, 
hearing,  sight,  carry  inwards  their  several  matters  of  information  to 
the  nutrient  reservoirs  of  the  memory,  where  by  the  active  imagina- 
tion they  are  raised  to  some  uniformity  of  life,  and  being  cast  into 


HIGHER  ANALOGUES  OF  ASSIMILATION.  167 

imagery,  are  extracted  by  the  understanding,  and  the  upshot  is  re- 
ferred to  the  judgment  and  the  will.  The  broadest  common  sense 
strikes  home  the  first ;  is  received  at  once  without  any  process,  and 
identified  with  the  life  of  the  mind ;  the  details,  difficulties  and  am- 
biguities of  sense,  which  seem  to  suggest  no  present  action,  are  long 
and  passively  retained  in  the  entrance,  and  only  come  back  to  mind 
through  other  and  oblique  considerations ;  being  not  the  chief, 
though  the  bulkiest  sustenance  of  the  human  understanding. 

Passing  from  bare  consciousness  to  practical  education — from  the 
mind  to  the  man — What  is  education  but  an  assimilative  career  ? 
The  full  social  form  is  the  blood  into  which  we  are  to  enter;  the 
nature  of  the  child,  or  the  roughness  of  the  adult,  is  the  material 
to  be  admitted  or  refined — Delight  and  curiosity,  with  tiny  gestures 
and  sparkling  eyes,  come  tripping  forth  to  their  lessons'  time  in  the 
classes  of  existence.  The  cradle  and  the  mother  are  one  organic 
school;  the  nursery  is  another;  the  school-proper  is  another;  the 
workman's  probationary  bench,  and  the  student's  table,  are  another; 
the  life-calling  is  another  still ;  and  there  is  no  finish  to  education, 
because  there  is  no  end  to  the  refinement  of  mutual  good  works, 
or  to  the  closer  friendship  of  the  human  family.  That  grand  indi- 
vidual, mankind,  true  to  the  spirit  of  Him  who  evokes  it — can  it 
less  than  reflect  what  is  "infinite  in  conjunction,  and  eternal  in  per- 
petuity V 

Does  this  throw  any  light  of  probability  on  the  dim  hereafter  ? 
Somewhat  of  a  luminous  hope  seems  to  overshadow  and  tremble 
around  us,  while  we  follow  the  analogies  that  proclaim  the  oneness 
of  God's  laws  in  nature  and  in  man.  Are  these  primordial  laws  so 
divine  that  they  govern  with  their  own  flexibility  even  in  the  future 
life?  Are  we  attracted  thither  to  feed  a  mightier  organization? 
Is  the  good  received  and  welcomed,  and  the  ill  renounced,  with  a 
selection  more  discriminating,  a  rejection  more  total,  and  a  wisdom 
more  unconceived  and  irresistible,  than  even  in  that  human  form 
which  comes  from  the  spirit,  and  returns  to  the  spirit  ?  Or  rather, 
is  the  principle  one  and  the  same  in  both  cases  ?  Let  us  lean  on 
nature's  arm,  and  follow  the  analogy  until  we  have  better  lights  :  the 
rather  because  analogy  itself  is  assimilation. 

But  to  condense  and  finish. — The  possibility  of  assimilation  lies 


168  ASSIMILATION  AND  ITS  ORGANS. 

in  the  fact,  that  the  universe  runs  man-ward  from  its  source.  The 
means  to  assimilation  are  implanted  faculties  in  the  soul,  the  body 
and  the  mind,  of  imitation,  emulation  and  order.  The  use  of  assi- 
milation consists  in  renewing  all  things  upon  their  highest  models, 
and  by  their  best  examples.  Accordingly  in  the  physical  man,  it  is 
the  bringing  together  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,  to  be  built  in  the 
temple  of  the  body.  In  the  mind,  it  is  the  translation  of  nature 
into  thought,  and  of  matter  into  spirit.  In  the  household,  it  is  the 
grouping  of  young  and  old  upon  larger  affections  into  consolidated 
kindreds.  In  the  state,  it  is  that  love  and  warrant  of  the  common- 
wealth which  reconstructs  our  private  lives  into  the  elements  of  an 
advancing  society.  And  in  the  individual  and  the  race,  as  the  part 
and  the  whole  of  existence,  it  is  that  supernal  fire  which  burns  to 
make  us  more  and  more  from  the  dust  of  the  earth  in  the  jjnage 
and  likeness  of  the  Divinity.  The  steps  of  these  assimilations  are 
miracles ;  the  emulation  of  every  nature  to  other  and  better  than  it 
is ;  the  death  of  the  old,  and  the  emancipation  and  resurrection  of 
the  new )  the  conversion  of  all  brass  into  gold,  of  all  grubs  'into 
butterflies ;  of  earth  into  passions ;  of  men  into  spirits ; — we  see  not 
the  stages  here ;  because  they  are  easier,  smaller,  purer  and  faster  than 
our  light ',  but  neither  do  we  refuse  to  credit  them,  for  the  result  is 
humanity. 

Therefore  it  is  thus :  at  one  end  the  universe  is  the  quarry,  at  the 
other  is  the  heaven  of  heavens  already  shapen  and  ever  shaping ; 
and  God  is  the  sculptor ;  and  between  lie  all  time  and  form  moulded 
as  they  emerge  into  new  heavens  and  new  earths,  the  likeness  of 
the  wisdom  uncreated.  And  all  together  rises  now,  because  in  the 
new  covenant  no  temple  made  with  hands,  but  immensity  is  the 
mercy-seat. 


DESCRIPTION.  169 


CHAPTER  IV. 


THE  HUMAN  HEART. 


The  brains  animate  the  body  with  intention  and  purpose,  and  the 
lungs  give  it  corresponding  motion,  as  the  active  spirit  of  the  organs, 
and  the  basis  of  the  operations  of  the  will ;  the  heart,  as  the  blood's 
executive  power,  gives  corporeal  substance  to  the  frame,  inasmuch  as 
the  body  itself  arises  from  the  blood.  The  existence  of  the  human 
machine  depends  upon  the  heart,  but  its  usage  upon  the  lungs  and 
brains.  The  heart  is  the  source  whence  the  finished  blood  descends 
to  the  organs  throughout  the  system  ;  it  is  the  immediate  adminis- 
trator of  the  supply  of  nutrition  to  the  body.  And  as  the  life  is  in 
the  blood,  the  heart  is  the  agent  for  bestowing  that  life  upon  the  or- 
ganization, and  for  giving  every  man  a  temperament,  or  peculiarity 
of  animal  being,  secondary  to  and  seconding  that  nervous  life  which 
he  receives  from  the  spirit  of  the  brain.  In  a  word,  the  heart  or 
blood  determines  the  fleshly  tenement.  Let  what  powers  there  may 
act  upon  us  from  within,  or  from  without,  we  are  made  of  no  other 
stuff,  and  carry  no  other  body,  than  comes  from  the  fountain  of  our 
blood.  We  put  it  to  what  use  we  please  or  can,  but  the  body  it- 
self is  given,  limited,  constituted  by  the  life-blood  poured  forth  by 
the  heart. 

We  have  then  to  consider  the  heart  as  the  centre  of  the  blood-sys- 
tem ;  as  a  vessel  suited  to  the  whole  composition  of  the  blood ;  as 
the  forceful  agent  in  various  motions  whereby  the  circulation  is  per- 
petuated, or  whereby  the  end  of  bodily  life  coincides  with  the  begin- 
ning, and  the  animal  circle  is  completed  :  also  as  the  isthmus  which, 
according  to  its  build,  receives  the  wave  and  shock  of  the  passions 
advancing  body  ward  on  the  one  side,  and  transmits  them  in  modified 
vibrations  to  the  expectant  tide  of  blood  on  the  other  side.  In  short, 
15 


170  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

we  have  to  regard  the  heart  in  its  own  peculiar  relations  to  physics, 
physiology  and  psychology. 

The  anatomical  heart  is  a  conical,  hollow,  muscular  organ,  lying 
obliquely  in  the  chest  between  the  two  lungs,  the  base  of  the  cone 
pointing  upwards  in  the  direction  of  the  right  shoulder,  the  apex 
pointing  to  the  space  between  the  fifth  and  sixth  ribs.  It  rests  upon 
the  tendinous  portion  of  the  diaphragm,  which  is  the  partition  be- 
tween the  chest  and  abdomen ;  and  it  is  encased  in  a  peculiar  bag  or 
capsule,  the  pericardium,  which  consists  of  two  layers,  the  outer 
fibrous,  by  which  the  pericardium  is  attached  to  the  great  vessels  at 
the  root  of  the  heart ;  the  inner,  a  serous  layer,  continuous  with  the 
serous  membrane  that  covers  the  outer  surface  of  the  heart.  The 
cavity  between  the  heart  and  pericardium,  thus  lined  by  a  serous 
covering,  generally  contains  more  or  less  fluid,  whereby  the  heart 
is  lubricated  on  the  outside,  and  its  local  motions  are  rendered  easy. 

The  heart  comprises  four  cavities,  two  auricles  and  two  ventricles, 
one  auricle  and  one  ventricle  being  on  each  side,  and  the  right  pair 
of  cavities  being  devoted  to  the  circulation  of  the  venous  blood,  the 
left  pair,  to  that  of-  the  arterial  blood.  The  auricles  are  at  the  top, 
constituting  the  base  of  the  heart;  the  ventricles  form  the  apex;  the 
latter  are  much  stronger  than  the  auricles,  consisting  of  very  thick 
muscular  walls,  the  reason  of  which  we  shall  see  presently. 

The  heart  is  a  peculiar  muscle,  and  when  any  of  its  four  cavities 
contract,  they  have  the  power  of  expelling  their  contents,  the  force 
of  the  expulsion  being  the  prime  mover  of  the  circulation  of  the 
blood.  TVe  may  begin  the  circle  where  we  please,  and  we  shall  find 
that  it  returns  into  itself.  Starting  for  instance  from  the  left  ven- 
tricle, we  see  that  the  blood  is  driven  by  the  contraction  of  that  ca- 
vity into  the  aorta,  the  highway  which  leads  into  all  the  arteries  of 
the  body;  through  these  the  blood  is  discharged  into  the  veins,  which 
unite  to  form  at  last  only  two  great  trunks,  the  vense  cavse,  which  are 
again  the  thresholds  of  the  heart,  and  debouch  into  the  right  auricle. 
The  blood  which  has  now  passed  from  the  left  ventricle  to  the  right 
auricle,  has  still  a  journey  to  make  before  it  completes  its  course. 
Accordingly  from  the  right  auricle  it  is  forced  into  the  right  ventri- 
cle, and  by  the  right  ventricle,  into  the  pulmonary  artery,  which 
conveys  it  to  the  lungs,   where  it  ramifies  through  the   multiple 


DESCRIPTION.  171 

branches  of  that  artery,  and  whence  it  is  brought  back  by  the  pul- 
monary veins,  forming  ultimately  four  large  trunks,  which  discharge 
themselves  into  the  heart's  left  auricle,  by  the  contraction  of  which 
the  blood  is  next  forced  into  the  left  ventricle,  to  the  place  from 
which  we  began. 

"We  have  sketched  out  the  circulation  before  treating  more  mi- 
nutely of  the  structure  of  the  heart,  in  order  that  we  may  have  the 
blood  for  a  guide,  and  proceed  from  the  uses  of  the  organ  to  the 
anatomical  structure.  "We  shall  however  again  recur  to  the  circu- 
lation in  greater  detail. 

The  left  ventricle  of  the  heart,  a  powerful  contractile  cavity,  has 
the  task  of  projecting  the  florid  or  arterial  blood  which  has  just  tra- 
versed the  lungs,  through  the  aorta  over  the  whole  body ;  upwards, 
to  the  head,  downwards  to  the  feet ;  this  office  it  discharges  by  a 
quick  act  of  contraction,  or  as  it  is  termed,  systole,  which  propels 
the  blood  into  the  aorta.  The  aorta,  like  the  other  large  arteries, 
is  elastic  and  muscular,  and  tends  constantly  to  assume  its  smallest 
calibre,  in  consequence  of  which  it  moves  the  blood  forwards  where- 
ever  a  free  space  is  found.  But  when  the  heart  again  expands  or 
performs  diastole,  the  blood  would  regurgitate  from  the  aortic  tube 
into  the  ventricle,  were  there  not  a  provision  against  this  in  the  pre- 
sence of  three  semilunar  valves,  little  crescents  of  the  lining  mem- 
brane of  the  aorta,  which  swell  out  into  pouches  when  the  blood  re- 
gurgitates, and  close  the  passage.  Their  function  in  this  respect  is 
constantly  called  for,  and  the  sudden  stop  of  the  blood  by  the  valve 
gives  rise  to  a  click  which  may  be  heard  among  the  other  sounds  of 
the  heart. 

The  volume  of  blood  we  are  considering  is  now  fairly  in  the  arte- 
ry, and  like  a  slippery  ball  it  eludes  the  successive  pressure  of  the 
vessels,  and  flies  onwards  in  its  course.  The  opening  of  the  artery 
by  the  injected  wave,  and  its  contraction  upon  the  same,  ensues 
like  a  rapid  undulation  along  the  whole  line,  and  constitutes  the 
pulse.  Eighty  times  per  minute  the  quiver  of  this  stroke  permeates 
the  life  tree  of  the  body  and  its  infinite  ramifications.  The  station, 
the  tram  and  the  passengers  are  all  locomotives  on  this  railway. 
First,  the  heart  closes,  and  its  out-thrown  blood  opens  the  artery; 
then  the  artery  itself  successively  closes  and  opens  down  the  entire 


172  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

extent ;  and  the  result  is,  the  propagation  of  the  wave  from  the  cen- 
tres to  the  circumferences  of  the  system.  The  heart  in  successive 
moments  forces  life  upon  the  arteries ;  the  arteries,  by  an  even  pres- 
sure, tend  to  contraction  or  death,  and  thereby  diffuse  the  life,  or 
make  it  universal.  Organic  beings  are  expanded  ab  extra,  but  con- 
tract of  themselves.  Were  it  not  for  pressure  from  without,  the 
contractility  of  all  things  would  result  in  general  death.  But  the 
influx  of  life  opens  the  narrow  into  the  wide,  and  ultimately  effects 
a  compromise,  whereby  contraction  or  individuality  rules  conjointly 
with  expansion  or  receptiveness,  and  the  two  together  perpetuate 
the  commonwealth.  This  is  the  indispensable  strife  between  pro- 
gress and  conservation,  here  represented  by  the  heart  and  arteries. 

The  arteries,  forming  a  tree  whose  stem  is  the  aorta,  terminate  by 
their  capillary  twigs  in  the  veins,  which  form  another  tree  corres- 
ponding to  the  former,  but  the  reverse  of  it  in  motion  or  function ; 
for  the  blood  that  runs  from  the  largest  to  the  lesser  and  least  arte- 
ries, returns  to  the  heart  through  first  the  least,  then  the  lesser,  and 
then  the  largest  veins.  The  arterial  pulse  is  quite  lost  in  the  mi- 
nute branches  and  twigs  of  the  arteries,  and  the  blood  passing  into 
the  veins  presents  one  continuous  flow  not  manifestly  influenced  by 
the  beating  of  the  heart.  Nevertheless  it  receives  the  force  of  the 
heart,  which  is  the  grand  cause  of  the  venous  circulation,  there  being 
many  secondary  causes  promotive  of  the  same  effect,  and  particularly 
the  respiratory  movements.  The  blood  in  the  veins  is  prevented 
from  running  back,  both  by  the  vis  a  tergo,  and  during  muscular 
efforts  by  a  set  of  valves,  something  like  those  in  the  aorta,  and 
which  are  placed  at  short  intervals  in  many  of  the  veins,  and  deter- 
mine the  wavering  current  onwards.  Arrived  in  the  venae  cavse, 
the  heads  of  the  veins,  the  blood  receives  a  new  stroke  from  the 
muscular  strength  added  to  the  cava?,  and  presses  with  all  its  forces 
into  the  right  auricle  of  the  heart,  which  thus  receives  the  last  of 
the  blood,  and  in  the  words  of  Harvey,  "  is  the  first  part  of  the 
heart  to  live,  and  the  last  to  die."  Thus  intruded,  it  distends  the 
auricle;  which,  when  it  has  borne  the  distention  to  the  utmost, 
begins  to  resist,  to  react,  to  contract ;  it  does  contract  and  expels  the 
intruded  blood.  Whither  does  it  expel  it  ?  Not  of  course  into  the 
venae  cavae,  excepting  in  the  slight  proportion  between  the  whole 


THE  CIRCULATION.  173 

force  of  the  oncoming  venous  blood  and  the  contrary  force  of  the 
contracting  auricle ;  for  the  steady  pressure  of  the  blood  in  the  cavee 
has  already  been  sufficient  to  open  and  command  the  auricle.  The 
latter  then  drives  the  blood  into  the  ventricle,  and  so  is  relieved  and 
contracts ;  and  now  the  ventricle  expands,  and  the  blood  which  it 
contains  shuts  upwards  a  triple  valve,  the  tricuspid,  which  is  at- 
tached by  tendinous  cords  to  the  muscular  columns  of  the  heart  j 
and  the  ventricle,  reacting  against  its  own  forcible  expansion,  bear- 
ing it  no  longer,  throws  out  the  blood,  prevented  from  regurgitating 
into  the  auricle  by  the  tricuspid  valve,  into  the  pulmonary  artery, 
which  is  an  artery  carrying  venous  blood.  The  blood  thus  injected 
into  the  pulmonary  artery,  is  in  its  turn  prevented  from  reflux  by 
three  semilunar  valves  placed  at  its  commencement,  and  it  circulates 
through  another  or  second  circle  of  arteries  and  veins,  which  con- 
stitute the  pulmonic  circulation  in  contradistinction  to  the  general 
circulation  upon  which  we  have  already  expatiated.  By  the  twigs 
or  ends  of  the  pulmonary  arteries  it  is  returned  into  the  twigs  or 
beginnings  of  the  pulmonary  veins ;  and  we  may  somewhat  appreci- 
ate the  reason  of  an  artery  in  this  system  carrying  venous  blood,  and 
a  vein  carrying  arterial  blood,  when  we  learn,  that  this  system  is  in  an 
important  respect  the  inverse  of  the  general  system ;  inasmuch  as 
the  blood  becomes  de-arterialized,  dark  and  venous  in  the  capillary 
vessels  of  the  general  circulation,  but  becomes  re-arterialized  and 
crimson  in  the  capillaries  of  the  lungs  or  pulmonary  system. 

It  is  not  now  necessary  to  consider  the  circulation  of  the  lungs, 
although  it  may  be  observed  in  passing,  that  the  pulmonary  arteries 
and  veins,  running  through  those  energetic  air-pumps,  can  hardly 
beat  at  any  other  times  than  during  inspiration  and  expiration ;  and 
the  pulse  or  stroke  of  the  left  ventricle  can  only  act  to  the  root  of 
the  lungs,  and  fill  the  beginning  of  the  pulmonary  artery,  as  a  reservoir 
from  which  the  lungs,  at  their  own  intervals,  drink  in  the  accumulated 
blood.  One  function  of  the  pericardium  or  heart-bag  lies  in  eman- 
cipating the  heart  from  the  power  of  the  respiratory  motions ;  for 
the  heart  lies  in  the  midst  of  the  lungs,  grasped  by  their  two  arms, 
the  pulmonary  arteries  and  veins,  and  were  it  naked  or  unprotected, 
it  would  be  drawn  into  the  pulmonary  votex,  in  which  case  its  in- 
voluntary life  would  cease,  it  would  receive  the  immediate  play  of 

15* 


174  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

the  mind  just  like  the  lungs,  and  the  spontaneous  order  of  the  body 
would  be  lost ;  in  a  word,  the  pulse  would  coincide  with  the  respi- 
ration. Even  as  it  is,  the  respiration  exerts  a  marked  influence  upon 
the  pericardium,  though  the  heart  is  not  further  affected  thereby 
than  as  it  receives  the  general  movements  of  the  lungs  and  brains, 
while  at  the  same  time  it  exerts  under  them  its  own  movements,  or 
maintains  its  individuality. 

We  have  now  pursued  the  blood  into  the  trunks  of  the  pulmo- 
nary veins,  where  it  is  still  impelled  by  the  vis  a  tergo,  and  moreover 
drawn  by  the  inviting  lungs,  until  it  is  poured  by  the  four  trunks 
of  those  veins  into  the  left  auricle,  which  it  opens  and  distends. 
The  auricle  now  reacts  or  contracts,  and  squeezes  the  blood  whither 
there  is  the  smallest  resistance,  that  is  to  say,  into  the  left  ventricle, 
which,  when  filled,  in  its  turn  contracts,  and  its  blood  shutting  back 
the  mitral  valves  placed  between  it  and  its  auricle,  is  driven  forwards 
into  the  aorta )  again  to  perform  the  same  revolutions,  and  to  per- 
petuate life  by  incessant  cycles  of  formation,  destruction  and  reform- 
ation. 

From  this  second  view  of  the  circulation  we  may  follow  the  ac- 
count given  by  one  physiologist,  namely,  that  the  cause  of  the  alter- 
nate motion  of  the  heart  is  the  action  and  reaction  of  the  blood  and 
the  vessels ;  that  the  immediate  cause  of  the  motion  of  the  ven- 
tricles is  the  action  of  the  blood  and  the  auricles ;  and  the  immedi- 
ate cause  of  the  motion  of  the  auricles  is  the  action  of  the  blood 
and  the  venae  cavae ;  further  that  the  immediate  cause  of  the  motion 
of  the  vena  cava  is  each  particular  branch  of  it ;  the  immediate 
cause  of  the  motion  of  the  branch  is  each  particular  twig  of  it,  and 
of  each  capillary  tube  thereto  appended ;  the  immediate  cause  of  the 
motion  of  each  venous  twig  is  the  action  of  the  little  arterial  vessel 
which  empties  itself  into  it ;  and  the  immediate  cause  of  this  action 
is  the  action  of  the  branch,  of  the  trunk,  and  finally  of  the  heart : 
wherefore  the  cause  of  the  heart's  motion  is  continuous,  and  like  the 
blood  itself  runs  in  a  circle  from  the  left  ventricle,  throughout  the 
blood-system,  to  the  right  ventricle;  showing  that  there  is  not  a 
point  in  the  system  but  contributes  to  the  motion  of  the  heart.  We 
see  from  this  whirl  or  world  of  immediate  causes  how  necessarily  a 
motion  once  begun  in  these  living  wheels,  rolls  onwards,  circling 


ESSENTIALNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  175 

round,  and  how  slight  the  resistance  is,  where  all  the  parts  contri- 
bute in  their  places  to  reciprocation  and  equilibrium.  Under  these 
provisions  the  smallest  touch  awakens  the  organism  into  its  beauti- 
ful motions,  emulous  so  far  as  nature  can  be,  of  everlasting  exist- 
ence and  immortal  life. 

But  if  we  delve  a  little  under  the  human  organism,  we  shall 
find  that  the  circulation  of  the  blood  by  the  heart,  is  based  upon  a 
natural  or  spontaneous  tendency  to  circulation  in  the  blood  itself, 
and  that  as  in  the  case  of  the  nervous  system  (p.  31),  there  is  an 
automatic  life  at  the  foundation  in  every  part,  the  fluids  as  well  as 
the  solids,  to  which  higher  stories  or  more  measured  powers  are 
afterwards  superadded.  Thus  the  sap  circulates  in  plants,  and  the 
blood  in  many  of  the  lower  animals  without  any  heart  to  propel 
it.  The  fluid  runs  by  attraction  to  the  spot  where  it  is  wanted,  and 
forms  an  uninterrupted  fibre  of  supply,  which  is  continually  wound 
off  into  the  loom  of  the  organs  ;  and  it  is  indifferent  whether  we  look 
upon  it  as  fluid  or  solid,  for  the  one  end  draws  the  middle  and  the 
other  end,  as  if  the  current  of  life  were  a  series  of  coherent 
threads;  while  on  the  other  hand  the  portions  wanted  for  deposit, 
drop  out  of  the  chain  when  and  whither  the  want  pulls  them ;  for 
want  itself,  in  its  phases  in  this  sphere,  is  their  magnetism  and  their 
string. 

The  heart,  nevertheless,  though  based  upon  all  that  is  hearty, 
magnetic  or  occultly  impulsive  in  the  animate  and  inanimate  worlds, 
is  itself  the  essence  of  the  human  circulation,  just  as  the  supreme 
or  rational  brain  is  the  essence  of  the  human  nervous  system  with 
its  animation.  We  may  indeed  say  that  there  are  two  essences  to 
every  progressive  being,  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  it,  or  the  germ 
and  the  ideal.  The  germ  gives  the  body  and  the  ideal  the  spirit, 
which  latter  is  to  alter  the  body,  made  already  with  a  capacity  to  be 
altered,  into  its  own  likeness.  The  ideal,  or  what  is  the  same  thing, 
the  uppermost  addition,  as  in  the  vascular  system,  the  heart,  in  the 
nervous  system,  the  mind  and  the  cerebrum,  become  the  essence  of 
their  respective  orders;  for  in  a  progressive  nature,  it  is  not  that 
which  is,  but  that  which  becomes,  that  comports  with  the  moving 
series,  or  comes  into  the  view  of  ends.  Moreover,  the  essence  or 
peculiar  capacity  is  that  which  distinguishes  each  organization  from 


176  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

all  others.  The  essence  of  man  is  that  mind  which  he  possesses  in 
disco mniunity  with  any  animal ;  the  essence  of  his  lungs  is  their 
idealization  by  that  mind,  and  the  peculiar  physical  structure  which 
capacitates  them  for  this  becoming ;  the  essentialness  of  his  heart 
is  thus  likewise.  Hence  it  is  unscientific  to  regard  the  spine  as  the 
essential  part  of  the  nervous  system  in  any  animals  but  those  in  which 
the  spine  is  the  highest  part ;  or  the  heartless  circulation  as  essential 
in  any  but  acardiac  systems .  Cerebrate  organizations  are  created 
for  a  brain,  and  long  for  a  brain,  and  acephalous  monsters,  though 
they  may  exist,  cannot  continue;  so  also  organizations  fitted  for  a 
heart,  though  they  may  maintain  life  for  a  time  with  a  defective 
heart,  yet  cannot  become  adult,  or  travel  on  the  road  of  ends,  for 
their  essence  has  failed  them.  This  is  not  a  matter  of  words,  but  a 
difference  of  ends  and  methods,  involving  the  question  of  whether 
the  sciences  shall  be  founded  upon  distinctions  or  upon  confusion ; 
of  whether  they  shall  walk  upon  their  feet,  or  stand  upon  their 
heads;  and  of  whether  the  high,  the  moving  and  the  intelligible 
shall  give  the  cue  to  induction,  or  the  stationary,  the  occult  and  the 
low. 

And  here  we  may  remark  that  in  organizations  it  is  the  additions 
ab  extra  that  become  of  all  importance  in  the  long  run.  Thus 
nature,  at  first  vertebral  and  serpentine,  becomes  capital  and  human 
by  the  addition  of  parts  which  snakes  and  tortoises  can  dispense 
with.  And  these  extraneous  organisms,  not  at  first  necessary  to 
mere  existence,  but  necessary  to  the  ends  of  existence,  become  the 
essentials  of  useful  knowledge,  because  they  show  the  aims  of  facts, 
or  the  ends  of  all  developments.  On  the  other  hand,  the  basis 
which  nature  supplies  to  be  built  upon,  is  of  no  importance  except 
for  the  building,  just  as  the  vertebral  column  is  insignificant  except- 
ing for  and  to  the  head.  Precisely  in  the  same  manner,  the  magnetic, 
sap-like,  and  even  animal  forces  of  the  circulation,  are  of  no  import- 
ance in  our  bodies  excepting  as  the  ground  upon  which  the  last 
essence,  the  human  heart,  is  to  be  built  and  chambered.  Man  at 
any  rate  is  a  distinct  subject,  and  that  which  is  manly  in  his  heart 
is  all  that  belongs  to  its  human  physiology.  The  rest  is  animality, 
vegetable  physiology  or  general  physics,  and  had  better  be  sought 
after  in  its  purity  among  the  beasts,  the  plants,  or  the  loadstones. 


ESSENTIALNESS  OF  THE  HEART.  177 

This  theme  requires  to  be  dwelt  upon  from  the  currenf  misappre-  ' 
hensions  respecting  it.  For  at  present  it  is  held,  that  that  which  is 
essential  in  the  human  body  is  that  which  the  body  possesses  in 
common  with  hydatids  and  zoophytes — that  a  digestive  sac  or  cell 
is  the  essence  of  mankind.  And  the  reason  given  is,  that  all  but 
stomach  and  nutrition  can  be  dispensed  with,  and  that  these  can  go  on 
for  a  time  on  their  own  account  without  the  brain  and  nerves.  It  is 
perfectly  true  that  these  foundations  are  as  independent  as  they  can  be, 
and  that  they  are  automatic.  The  very  flesh  is  alive  perse,  and  carnally 
ensouled,  before  the  better  life  is  added  to  it  by  the  brain.  But  in 
developments  the  development  becomes  everything,  and  covers  and 
gradually  buries  the  matrix  out  of  which  it  sprang.  And  if  the 
development  does  not  come,  the  barren  matrix  cannot  last  or  work. 
No  one  ever  heard  of  an  acephalous  monster  going  to  church  or 
taking  a  hand  at  whist;  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  walked  out  of  the 
ranks  sexlessly  and  shabbily  into  the  unconsecrated  piece  of  the  next 
churchyard.  And  all  headless  things  which  come  up  among  those 
which  have  heads,  must  take  the  same  fate;  headless  sciences  among 
the  rest.  Moral  headlessness  is  in  the  same  category;  those  who 
make  the  belly  and  the  flesh  essential  because  they  are  the  last 
things  that  can  be  done  without,  and  throw  away  the  higher  parts 
because  they  are  merely  additions,  and  some  function  continues 
without  them,  go  to  the  worms  by  their  own  claims.  For  just  that 
which  is  first  and  easiest  lost  and  lived  without,  is  the  pearl  of  the 
human  mind. 

To  return  from  this  digression.  At  one  end  of  the  circulatory 
system  is  the  heart;  at  the  other  a  class  of  vessels  termed,  from 
their  hair-like  fineness,  the  capillaries.  The  heart,  as  we  before 
observed,  sends  from  its  left  ventricle  a  grand  arterial  arch,  the  aorta, 
which  in  its  turn  produces  stems,  branches  and  twigs,  and  these  last 
the  capillary  tubes,  an  intermediate  field,  which  is  the  end  of  the 
arteries  and  the  beginning  of  the  veins.  In  these  almost  invisible 
capillaries,  nature,  "greatest  in  the  least  things,"  carries  on  some  of 
her  most  wonderful  operations.  The  blood  which  in  the  larger  arte- 
ries is  a  medley  volume  of  red  globules  floating  in  serum,  and  only 
comes  into  indiscriminate  contact  with  the  sides  of  the  vessels,  as  it 
runs  down  from  the  larger  into  the  lesser  tubes,  becomes  more  and 


178  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

more  distinctly  divided,  and  in  the  capillaries  the  red  globules  are  in 
the  highest  state  of  discrimination,  fit  for  supplying  from  their  bosoms 
living  nutriment  and  warmth,  and  whatever  depends  upon  the  most 
individual  endowments.  In  the  great  vessels  the  blood  is  in  public, 
exercising  general  offices,  and  thronging  the  body  to  keep  it  wide 
and  open ;  in  the  capillaries  it  is  at  home,  its  freedom,  power,  and 
fluidity  raised  to  the  greatest  pitch,  and  subject  to  the  still  influences 
of  a  higher  spirit  than  its  own.  Accordingly  the  capillaries  are 
more  plainly  under  the  direction  of  the  brain,  than  the  larger 
vessels  j  their  exquisite  nervous  coats  undergo  greater  proportional 
changes  in  calibre,  and  enjoy  more  individuality  in  differents  parts 
than  the  Herculean  aorta  and  its  tubes ;  the  emotions  of  the  nerves 
being  almost  omnipotent  in  their  influence  over  these  kindred  and 
subtle  disciples.  For  the  most  part  the  blood-globules  march  in 
single  file  through  the  capillaries ;  but  under  the  influence  of  cold, 
stimulants,  or  inflammation,  the  latter  will  either  close,  so  as  appa- 
rently to  admit  no  red  particles,  or  will  enlarge  considerably  enough 
to  give  passage  to  several  rows  abreast.  A  familiar  instance  of  the 
power  of  the  mind  or  nerves  upon  this  system,  is  seen  in  the  pheno- 
menon of  blushing,  in  which  the  modest  emotions,  giving  all  place 
to  the  pressure  about  them,  instantaneously  relax  an  outspread  field 
of  capillaries,  which  lose  their  straight-laced  dignity,  and  red  blood 
is  injected  into  vessels  that  before  carried  only  colorless  fluid,  or  in 
which  the  amount  of  red  blood  is  now  so  greatly  increased  as  to  glow 
through  the  skin  of  the  face  and  neck,  and  tinge  them  with  apparent 
crimson.  If  we  generalize  this  common  fact,  we  observe  what  a 
prodigious  sway  the  brain  must  exercise  over  these  blood-vessels. 
The  capillary  system  is  coextensive  with  the  body,  for  looking  from 
the  heart  as  a  centre,  the  framework  of  every  organ  and  part  con- 
sists of  capillaries.  These,  the  brain  and  nerves  have  the  power  of 
expanding  and  constringing  in  any  place,  or  any  number  of  places, 
in  a  moment ;  of  producing  secretions  or  stopping  secretions  at  will ; 
of  varying  the  life  that  comes  from  without  to  any  particle  of  the 
frame.  In  short,  the  circulation  in  its  active  and  flexible  part,  is 
held  in  the  leashes  of  the  brain,  and  the  accommodation  of  the 
blood  system  to  the  existing  state  of  the  body  and  mind  depends 
mainly  on  the  nerves  acting  on  the  capillaries.     Nay,  the  texture  of 


THE  CAPILLARY  SYSTEM.  179 

the  heart  itself  is  capillary,  and  by  consequence  that  private  force 
and  freedom  which  belong  to  these  quick  vessels,  lies  in  the  very 
core  of  the  heart  as  the  general  force.  In  view  of  this,  we  might 
begin  with  these  ambidextrous  and  complaisant  parts,  and  derive  the 
power  of  the  heart  itself  from  the  array  of  their  combined  indivi- 
dualities. And  if  there  exists  even  in  the  cold  life  of  plants  a 
natural  attraction  of  particled  fluids  to  their  destination,  and  an  an- 
swerable force  which  creates  the  vegetable  current,  much  more  in 
the  human  frame  with  its  powerful  lungs  and  brains,  is  there  an 
attraction  of  the  particles  of  the  blood  towards  the  capillaries — an 
attraction  which  draws  them  at  an  accelerated  ratio  the  nearer  they 
approach  those  original  conduits  older  than  the  heart,  where  their 
uses  and  sacrifices  are  to  be  accomplished.  It  has  indeed  been  sup- 
posed by  some  that  the  blood  is  freest  in  the  great  vessels,  but  that 
its  globules  scrape  against  the  sides  of  the  capillaries,  and  lose  their 
power  by  friction ;  and  this  has  been  supported  by  microscopic  views ; 
but  then  on  the  other  hand  it  is  impossible  to  place  any  living  sheet 
of  membrane,  e.  g.,  the  web  of  a  frog's  foot,  under  the  microscope, 
without  changing  the  conditions,  setting  disturbing  emotions  at  work 
upon  the  circulation,  and  destroying  the  equilibrium  between  the 
globules  and  their  homes.  And  even  if  this  be  done  during  the 
insensibility  of  the  animal,  the  case  is  not  normal  still ;  the  anae- 
sthesia itself  is  a  new  element ;  and  moreover  there  are  organic 
emotions  as  well  as  conscious  ones,  which  go  on  under  inflictions 
just  as  though  the  pained  animal  were  at  the  back  of  them  (p.  31). 
Even  dead  leather  crinkles  and  writhes  over  the  fire  as  though  it 
were  full  of  burning  agony.  Rational  induction  alone  can  then 
decide  the  question.  And  this  ignores  the  idea  that  our  blood  ex- 
periences new  physical  difficulties  when  it  nears  the  goal  of  its  exist- 
ence, or  is  hindered  more  and  more  by  material  clogs  as  it  comes 
within  hail  of  the  spirit  of  the  brain.  It  is  true  that  the  blood  dies 
in  the  capillaries,  and  its  ruddy  frame  turns  blue,  but  it  is  never  so 
tenderly  alive  as  on  its  death-bed,  never  so  near  to  its  real  ends,  and 
in  its  ascent  from  the  earthy  heart  it  wings  itself  with  speed,  until 
at  the  last,  in  its  final  place  and  secret  hour,  it  is  all  spontaneity  and 
calmness.  It  is  wrong  then  to  speculate  upon  any  rigidity  of  the 
tubes  in  the  balance  of  healthy  life :  if  the  globule  tends  to  impinge, 


180  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

the  tube  will  tend  to  yield  before  it,  and  the  contact  will  be  nothing 
more  than  the  support  and  maintenance  by  both  sides  of  any  inclina- 
tion which  may  exist  on  either. 

Let  us  now  proceed  to  the  use  of  the  circulation.  The  first  use 
is,  the  formation  or  determination  of  the  body.  The  second  is,  the 
nutrition,  maintenance  or  reformation  of  the  body.  The  third  is, 
its  prolonged  vitality,  or  perpetual  stimulation.  These  three  pur- 
poses mutually  suppose  each  other.  The  formation  of  the  body  is 
effected  by  the  germinal  fluids,  determined  into  membranes,  canals, 
and  ultimately  into  vessels  with  coats;  and  as  the  blood-vessels  are 
the  last  expression  of  these,  we  speak  of  them  as  the  framers  of  the 
body;  for  the  solid  comes  out  of  the  fluid  at  first,  and  the  substan- 
tial body  grows  from  the  blood  even  in  the  adult  state ;  the  capil- 
laries moulding  the  organs;  which,  however,  when  they  are  built, 
work  on  their  own  account,  and  govern  their  blood,  calling  into  ex- 
istence the  second  use  of  the  circulation,  or  the  nutrition  and  re- 
formation of  the  body.  The  progress  of  discovery  upon  this  point, 
tends  to  establish  the  individuality  not  only  of  every  organ,  but  of 
the  elements  or  smallest  impersonations  of  the  organs.  The  depo- 
sition of  the  solids  from  the  blood  does  not  take  place  immediately 
or  by  intrusion,  but  the  organs  put  forth  fine  cells  or  stomachs  from 
their  several  absorbing  surfaces,  which  take  what  they  want  from 
the  capillary  circulation,  and  make  it  over  to  the  organ  through  a 
fresh  similar  organization.  In  short,  the  body  grows  from  the  vital 
blood  by  its  own  vitality,  as  a  plant  grows  from  the  sappy  meltings 
of  the  ground ;  its  development  is  due  inside,  and  in  every  part,  to 
its  own  attractions,  and  not  to  the  rush  or  thrust  of  the  blood.  The 
increment  is  not  like  placing  brick  upon  brick  from  without,  each 
with  no  peculiar  relation  to  the  building,  but  every  brick  is  a  cellule 
or  little  building  of  itself,  similar  to  the  edifice  of  which  it  forms 
part. 

This  is  a  higher  idea  of  nutrition  than  that  which  it  supplanted, 
and  deserves  to  be  called  a  vegetable  idea,  in  distinction  from  the 
other,  which  was  a  mineral  idea.  We  must,  however,  remember, 
that  in  the  human  body  we  are  on  the  stair  of  endless  ends,  and 
that  no  fixed  idea  will  last  out  of  its  place  and  time.  We  must 
also  note,  that  we  are  reasoning  in  a  sphere  where  the  fluids  are 


THE  USES  OF  THE  CIRCULATION.  181 

next  to  all ;  where  the  toughness  of  vegetation  is  a  disease,  and 
where  fresh  formations  are  extemporized  with  mushroom  rapidity, 
and  dissolutions  take  place  with  equal  speed.  Cells  in  this  case 
melt  like  mist  into  their  original  currents,  and  the  only  set  of  ana- 
logues which  do  not  fail  us,  are  the  changes  of  the  mind  itself,  whose 
velocity  belongs  by  transference  to  the  body  in  its  higher  and 
healthier  moods.  Thus  the  organs  are  nourished  as  well  and  rapidly 
as  though  the  blood  was  forced  into  them  by  the  pulses,  but  in 
those  moments  of  moments  they  have  deliberated,  judged,  chosen, 
and  lastly  acted,  by  shooting  forth  a  cellular  gauze,  wise  to  let  in 
the  exact  quantity  and  quality  that  they  require. 

The  rule  then  is,  that  the  heart  and  its  powers  act  only  to  the 
door  of  the  organs,  and  no  further,  after  which  the  organs  take  from 
the  proffered  blood  their  own  demand.  This  is  true,  as  we  showed 
in  speaking  of  the  lungs  (p.  102),  of  the  largest  tissues  of  the  body; 
it  is  true,  as  observation  shows,  of  the  smallest  parts  of  the  tissues. 
In  a  word,  attraction  is  the  law;  and  it  exists  between  all  the  fluids 
and  their  respective  destinations  and  uses;  it  is  a  true  animal  mag- 
netism; and  in  this  high  form  there  is  a  manifest  propulsion  or 
heart  to  second  it  on  the  one  side,  and  a  manifest  invitation  or 
lungs  to  create  it  on  the  other :  to  which  we  may  add,  that  the  fluid 
itself  is  so  natured  as  to  run  of  its  own  accord  away  from  the  parts 
which  do  not  want  it,  and  away  to  those  which  do.  Thus,  in  this 
system  of  divine  convenience,  where  every  tendency  is  trebly  grati- 
fied, the  blood  propelled  to  any  organ  is  no  longer  the  heart's,  or  to 
be  denominated  from  the  heart,  but  it  belongs  to  the  organ,  part,  or 
particle,  wherever  it  may  be ;  it  is  always  sailing  upwards  and  in- 
wards to  deeper  purposes,  and  taking  new  names  and  new  liberties; 
just  as  sensation  rises  from  the  eye  into  the  brain,  is  adopted  into 
intellect  and  faculty,  and  walks  at  last,  unknown  to  the  lower  scene, 
in  the  breadth  and  color  of  the  sky.  It  is  thus,  that  the  red  blood 
from  the  heart  mounts  into  the  region  of  the  capillaries  and  organs, 
that  new  world  where  the  nervous  system  hangs  its  ethereal  expanse 
over  the  vascular. 

The  third  use  of  the  circulation  consists  in  giving  life  or  nervous 
fluid  to  the  tissues.  This  presupposes  that  such  a  fluid  proceeds 
from  the  brain  through  the  nerves,  and  is  shed  perpetually  into  the 
16 


182  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

body,  and  especially  into  the  blood.  The  red  globules  of  the  latter 
are  its  most  living  parts,  and  may  be  likened  to  little  caskets  in 
which  this  nervous  fluid  is  carried  about,  and  dispensed  as  life  to 
the  tissues,  to  which  it  gives  a  natural,  though  engrafted  capacity  to 
be  acted  upon  by  the  brains  and  lungs,  and  to  react  on  their  own 
account.  The  freeing  of  this  nervous  fluid  in  the  capillaries  is  as  a 
millionfold  torch  that  kindles  the  decompounded  elements  of  the 
globules,  and  produces  a  graduated  scale  of  heats,  of  which  the  first 
or  living  fire  is  the  nervous  fluid  itself,  instinct  with  its  organic 
emotion,  and  the  excrement,  residue  or  caput  mortuum  is  the  oxy- 
gen and  carbon  which  the  blood  and  tissues  yield  to  the  curious 
chemist;  the  difference  between  which  two  is  greater  than  that  be- 
tween the  smoking  ashes  of  a  burnt  house  and  heaven's  lightning. 

Were  it  not  for  this  inspiration  by  the  brain,  the  blood  could  not 
be  humanly  alive,  or  in  other  words,  the  soul  could  not  associate 
with  it.  With  respect  to  the  change  that  takes  place  at  the  ends  of 
the  arteries,  or  in  the  capillary  circulation,  where  the  blood  loses  its 
arterial  color,  and  purples  or  becomes  venous,  the  manner  of  it  is 
sufficiently  obscure,  and  has  only  been  investigated  at  present  from 
chemical  grounds.  But  looking  at  the  blood  itself  as  organic,  or 
vitally  compounded  and  mechanical,  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  in  the 
place  where  it  has  to  yield  up  any  of  its  constituent  parts  that  the 
successive  organisms  require,  it  must  lose  its  principle  of  combina- 
tion in  order  to  allow  it  to  pass  into  other  forms.  In  short,  it  must 
undergo  a  vital  decomposition  for  the  purposes  of  the  body;  and  if 
its  arterial  glitter  depends  upon  the  spirit  shining  through  it  as 
through  an  organic  face,  then  when  this  spirit  escapes  and  comes 
out,  and  the  subordination  of  parts  is  lost,  the  comparatively  life- 
less hue  of  venous  blood  will  be  assumed.  Furthermore,  we  may 
infer  that  the  nerve  spirit,  which  is  the  charioteer  of  the  globule, 
and  its  principle  of  organization  (p.  55),  when  its  heat  or  desire  of 
blood-organization  is  ended,  and  when  it  comes  down  among  the 
other  elements,  will  kindle  with  that  sensible  heat  which  is  expe- 
rienced in  the  lowest  sphere ;  in  other  words,  that  in  the  body,  the 
intellectual  or  organific  heat  is  in  a  lower  degree  the  parent  of  true 
animal  heat.  This  we  find  to  be  the  case  on  a  large  scale  by  the 
glow  of  zeal,  passion  and  affection  in  the  cheeks  and  the  body;  and 


THE  ARTERIAL  AND  VENOUS  CURRENTS.  183 

these  large  instances,  in  which  the  whole  body  displays  itself  as  one 
globule  of  impassioned  blood,  give  the  only  analogues  we  can  use 
consistently  with  our  purpose  of  reasoning  not  upon  the  dead  but 
upon  the  living  blood  (p.  181).  The  difference  then  between  the 
arterial  and  the  venous  blood  is,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  arterial 
is  organized,  spirited  or  impassioned,  and  just  like  ourselves  in  such 
a  case,  is  ruddy  with  the  fervor  of  a  soul,  while  the  venous  blood  is 
disorganized,  chaotic  and  aimless,  and  like  ourselves  again  under 
these  circumstances,  is  murky  in  its  hue  and  leaden  in  its  gait.  In 
the  second  place,  the  arterial  is  full  blood,  but  the  venous  has  yielded 
up  many  of  its  elements,  and  has  no  spirit  or  nerve  fire,  but  the 
residue  of  this  is  taken  up  by  the  lymphatics,  while  the  apathetic 
body  of  the  blood  is  derived  into  the  tardy  veins.  Such  is  an  ap- 
proximative organic  account  of  the  change. 

We  have  now  treated  of  the  use  of  the  heart  to  the  general  cir- 
culation, and  if  this  were  all,  the  heart  would  be  a  simple  forcing 
pump,  as  Chambers's  Journal  declared  it  to  be  ;  "  a  good  heart,"  in 
their  words,  would  be  u  a  good  forcing  pump,"  and  "  good  hearted- 
ness"  would  either  mean  "  good  force-pumpishness,"  or  nothing  at 
all.  But  when  we  glance  at  what  is  taking  place  around  us;  at  the 
subjects  which  are  extending  their  limits;  at  the  old  things  that  are 
again  brought  forward  by  our  growing  love  of  fairness,  because  they 
have  been  previously  dismissed  without  a  hearing,  which  says  no- 
thing against  them,  and  much  against  their  judges;  at  the  new 
things  which  are  thronging  into  notice  in  shapes  that  cannot  be  ne- 
glected— when  we  glance  at  this  we  may  be  expected,  in  the  face  of 
any  shabby  idea  of  nature  or  her  Author,  to  propound  the  question, 
Is  that  all?  and  to  cut  short  the  men  who  say  to  us,  It  is  only  this, 
and  It  is  only  that,  by  a  decision  that  no  finite  mind  has  a  right  to 
palm  one  such  only  anywhere  upon  nature.  For  our  part,  when  we 
look  at  the  human  frame,  we  are  always  impelled  to  put  this  ques- 
tion, and  in  the  same  breath  to  answer,  that  there  is  more  and  ever 
more  to  be  known  about  it,  not  in  the  way  of  niggling  additions 
and  grains  of  scientific  sand,  but  in  great  principles,  in  new  tracts 
of  knowledge,  underlying,  overspreading,  and  surrounding  that  tiny 
edifice  of  books  and  cards  where  we  are  so  comfortably  at  home. 
Yes,  at  this  very  hour  methinks  there  is  a  good  and  guiding  genius 


184  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

standing  just  ^beyond  the  range  of  every  conception  that  has  en- 
tered the  w 
childhood : 


tered  the  world,  and  beckoning  us  forwards  in  words  familiar  from 


"  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy  ;" 

and  then  as  we  pitter  out,  "  'Tis  strange,  'tis  wondrous  strange," 

the  same  apostle  to  the  Saxons  speaks  yet  again  in  mother  English : 

"  And  therefore  as  a  stranger  give  it  welcome." 

There  are  points  in  the  structure  of  the  heart  of  which  we  have 
said  nothing  hitherto,  but  we  must  now  describe  what  are  called  the 
coronary  vessels,  which  are  supposed  to  nourish  the  heart  with  blood. 
They  are  called  coronary  from  corona,  a  crown,  because  they  run  in 
crowns  or  coronal  circles  around  the  heart.  They  arise  from  the 
aorta  close  beside  the  semilunar  valves,  and  running  around  the 
base  of  the  heart,  and  sending  branches  down  the  lines  of  partition 
between  its  fourfold  chambers,  they  form  a  kind  of  vascular  cage- 
work  in  which  it  is  contained.  The  coronary  veins,  said  to  begin 
from  the  minutest  twigs  of  the  coronary  arteries,  by  their  consider- 
able branches  for  the  most  part  accompany  those  of  the  arteries, 
and  discharge  themselves  by  one,  two,  or  three  orifices  into  the  right 
auricle. 

The  interior  of  the  four  cavities  of  the  heart  is  not  a  smooth  even 
surface,  but  is  rendered  extremely  irregular  by  muscular  columns, 
projections  and  partitions;  it  is  scooped,  channeled,  and  caverned; 
besides  which,  on  the  walls  of  the  cavities  there  are  minute  open- 
ings, the  foramina  of  Thebesius,  which  are  supposed  to  be  the 
mouths  of  little  veins. 

Everything  in  nature,  and  especially  the  cardinal  movements  of 
living  systems,  are  designed  for  more  than  one  use;  for,  unlike 
rest,  motion  is  a  steed  which  can  have  innumerable  riders.  We 
are,  therefore,  certain  that  the  movements  of  the  heart  are  of  other 
uses  besides  the  propulsion  of  the  general  blood,  unless  it  could  be 
shown  that  the  provisions  of  the  heart  are  exhausted  in  this  pro- 
pulsion ;  which  cannot  be  done.  On  looking  further  at  the  heart 
itself,  we  find  that  its  working  is  also  employed  to  insure  the 
commixture  of  the  elements  of  the  blood,  especially  in  the  right 


THE  SUBSTANCE  OF  THE  HEART.  185 

ventricle,  which  receives  all  the  venous  or  disintegrated  blood  com- 
ing from  the  most  divers  organs;  all  the  chyle  arriving  from  the 
food;  moreover,  all  the  lymph;  and  lastly,  the  nerve-spirit  stream- 
ing in  from  the  jugular  veins,  which  contain  a  far  greater  propor- 
tion of  this  than  the  rest  of  the  venous  blood.  This  triple  scale 
of  elements,  the  blood,  the  chyle  and  the  nervous  fluid,  are  worked, 
kneaded  and  commingled  by  the  right  auricle  and  ventricle :  is  it 
too  much  to  grant  that  the  motion  of  those  cavities  is  intended  to 
do  that  which  it  plainly  does;  or  that  there  is  an  end  answered  by 
the  commixtion.  There  are  not  two  answers  to  the  question.  The 
right  ventricle,  then,  we  will  say,  after  a  quaint  authority,  is  the 
great  vat  of  the  blood-system,  in  which  the  fluids  are  mingled  to 
form  the  ingredients  of  the  red  blood;  after  which  the  mixture  is 
sent  through  the  lungs,  to  be  skimmed  of  whatever  comes  forth 
into  the  air,  and  to  be  subsequently  passed  into  the  left  auricle  and 
ventricle. 

We  are  aware  that  views  derived  from  the  forms  and  powers  of 
the  organs,  are  out  of  fashion,  yet  in  the  living  body  they  are  logical 
and  physiological,  which  the  chemical  notions  are  not.  There  are 
two  ways  of  looking  at  organic  subjects,  which  should  be  carefully 
distinguished  by  the  mind,  and  carefully  united  in  the  sciences. 
First,  there  is  the  investigation  of  the  form  or  structure,  at  rest,  or 
in  a  dead  state;  and  this  gives  an  osseous  basis  to  our  knowledge: 
but  as  permanently  resting  subjects  are  on  the  road  to  death,  and 
dead  things  are  on  the  road  to  decomposition,  this  method  leads,  in 
process  of  time,  and  in  continuity  of  doctrine,  through  the  land  of 
bad  smells  to  sheer  mineral  chemistry.  The  second  method  is  the 
investigation  of  the  movements,  functions  and  deeds  of  organic 
subjects;  the  examination  of  what  they  do,  and  their  judgment  by 
their  fruits;  and  the  facts  which  this  supplies  are  as  flesh  upon  the 
dry  bones  of  the  former  knowledge.  Let  us  apply  these  two  me- 
thods to  the  blood,  both  to  illustrate  what  they  are,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  to  pursue  our  inductions  respecting  the  offices  of  the  heart. 
In  the  first  method,  the  examination  of  the  dead,  dying  or  abnor- 
mally affected  blood  (p.  179)  by  the  eye  or  microscope,  shows  that  it 
consists  of  red  globules  in  a  transparent  serum ;  and  as  the  blood 
finally  dies,  it  undergoes  a  series  of  changes,  forming  a  clot  or  co- 

16* 


186  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

agulum  in  which  most  of  the  reel  particles  are  entangled.  There- 
after, purely  chemical  effects  succeed,  and  we  have  a  disengagement 
of  gases,  and  a  further  alteration  of  the  clot.  Such  is  the  first 
method  and  its  chronicle.  We  observe  that  it  is  most  perfect  when 
the  examination  begins,  and  at  that  time  holds  on  the  subject  under 
the  eye;  but  gradually  and  not  slowly  the  subject  changes,  and  a 
set  of  phenomena  present  themselves,  which,  if  taken  for  living  ap- 
pearances are  mere  delusion,  for  they  belong  strictly  to  disorgan- 
ization. 

The  second  method  with  the  blood  observes  it  in  motion,  in  order 
to  gain  the  hint  and  image  of  thought,  and  afterwards  and  espe- 
cially learns  what  it  accomplishes  in  the  body,  in  order  to  gain  the 
scope  and  details  of  the  thought  again.  It  is  as  when  you  first  see 
a  man,  and  take  his  impress  on  your  memory,  and  afterwards  from 
his  observed  actions  you  put  his  character  into  him,  and  find  what 
his  person  is  and  means.  For  it  is  the  deeds  of  men  and  things 
which  by  time's  benefit  range  themselves  into  their  intelligible 
vitals.  Who  can  care  whether  the  blood  contains  minnikin  particle 
within  particle  ad  infinitum,  without  these  can  be  tallied  off  against 
something  that  the  whole  blood  achieves  for  the  human  body? 
Otherwise  they  are  the  decomposition  of  our  observing  powers,  and 
rot  the  organic  sciences.  At  best  such  microscopic  observations  are 
the  visions  of  the  underworld,  the  empire  of  the  dwarfs.  But  what 
then  is  the  motion  of  the  blood?  It  is,  so  far  as  we  see,  the  stream- 
ing of  an  incessant  population  of  globules  through  the  vessels;  the 
body  is  a  city  of  active  life-bloods,  moving  like  the  nations  and 
peoples  of  a  whole  planetary  system  at  once,  through  every  atom  of 
space  and  time  which  the  system  allows  it.  And  what  are  the  offices 
of  the  blood  ?  We  answer  that  it  deposits  the  elements  for  every 
organ;  that  it  perpetually  deals  out  the  parts  into  their  respective 
places;  that  it  is  the  body  itself  in  a  fluid  state.  Thus,  everything 
in  the  body  contributes  to  our  notion  of  the  blood,  and  the  man  is 
a  representation  of  its  powers  and  tendencies  as  well  as  of  its  sub- 
stance. We  may  define  it  as  a  compound  of  all  the  simple  elements 
of  the  organization,  and  as  the  globules  are  its  most  living  portion, 
this  is  pre-eminently  true  of  them.  The  eye  sees  nothing  of  this 
its  character,  as  neither  does  the  eye  see  in  the  brain  the  faculties 


THE  BLOOD.  187 

by  which  men  invent  the  arts;  but  that  such  a  wealth  lies  in  the 
blood  the  mind's  eye  knows,  for  how  could  the  body  come  out  of 
the  blood  if  it  were  not  first  involved  within  it  ?  We  have  now, 
then,  arrived  at  a  certain  knowledge  of  this  manlike  globule,  as 
being  a  group  of  the  principles  of  the  solid  organs  and  tissues, 
resolvable  by  disintegration  as  it  circulates,  through  t^e  attractive 
peculiar  doors  of  the  organs*  (p.  181),  into  each  part  to  which  it 
passes.  For,  on  its  unwearied  round  it  gives  heart  to  heart,  lungs 
to  lungs,  liver  to  liver,  kidney  to  kidney,  and  like  to  like  everywhere ; 
and  what  is  left  in  each  case,  forms  the  venous  blood,  the  lymph, 
the  deader  heat,  and  the  several  excretions.  Moreover,  one  set  of 
glands  compounds  the  blood  while  the  other  destroys  it,  and  in  its 
perpetual  life,  death  and  resurrection,  it  images  the  destiny  of  him 
whose  bodily  existence  it  constitutes. 

With  such  views  of  the  blood,  added  to  what  we  derive  from  the 
eye  and  the  microscope,  we  require  a  vast  machinery  adequate  to 
produce  this  composition,  and  we  are  driven  to  look  to  every  organ, 
and  first  to  those  where  the  blood  is  contained,  for  its  contribution 
to  the  result.  Shall  the  heart  be  excluded  from  the  privilege  of 
blood-making  ?  Though  a  large,  it  is  a  highly  complex  structure, 
full  of  special  cavities  and  conduits,  edged  and  jagged  machinery 
of  tendons,  and  fine  muscular  limbs  and  fingers.  Its  two  sides 
contain  different  kinds  and  qualities  of  blood :  is  there  no  com- 
munication between  them,  no  intermediate  compounds  to  edify  the 
little  temple  of  the  globule  ?  Why  is  there  an  association  of  the 
sides  of  the  heart,  and  a  community  in  their  substance,  if  there  is 
no  society  in  their  functions,  and  no  reciprocation  of  their  goods? 
Are  the  two  sides  of  this  channel  also,  natural  enemies  ?  In  the 
right  ventricle  there  is  the  chyle,  the  venous  blood  of  the  body, 
the  venous  blood  and  spirit  of  the  brain :  is  it  not  rational  to  infer 
that  the  left  side  of  the  heart  furnishes  model  globules  and  middle 
essences  to  unite  these  heterogeneous  parts  ? 

We  must  touch  this  matter  slightly,  and  perhaps  therefore  ob- 

*  We  must  take  care  not  to  let  the  vegetable  idea  of  cells  grow  to  any  wood- 
enness,  or  interfere  with  the  animal  idea  of  freedom  and  instant  fluidity.  The 
cells  in  life  are  mere  instant  refrigerations  of  the  steam,  liable  to  be  vapor  again 
in  a  moment  between  the  strokes  of  the  life-engine. 


188  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

scurely;  however,  the  main  guidance  is,  that  the  blood  consists  of 
an  orderly  involution  of  the  elements  of  the  bodily  organs :  this 
will  give  light  upon  what  would  otherwise  be  dark.  We  now  recur 
for  a  few  moments  to  the  coronary  vessels,  or  to  the  circulation  in 
the  walls  of  the  heart. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  nearly  all  the  old  anatomists,  and  some 
also  of  the  moderns,  have  suspected  a  puzzle  in  these  coronary  ves- 
sels. They  come  from  the  aorta  and  run  backwards  to  the  heart.  In 
a  certain  proportion  of  cases  estimated  at  5  in  20,  one  or  more  of  their 
orifices  lies  behind  the  semilunar  valves,  and  such  orifices  it  is  clear 
cannot  receive  the  stream  propelled  from  the  heart,  because  it  lays 
down  the  valve  flat  upon  them,  and  effectually  closes  them.  As 
therefore  nature's  law  must  be  constant,  it  was  argued,  that  what 
holds  of  one  orifice  must  hold  of  all ;  and  that  the  blood  runs  back  into 
the  coronaries  from  the  aorta  when  the  heart's  contraction  ceases. 
This  was  Boerhaave's  opinion.  Morgagni,  a  more  practical  anato- 
mist, was  more  cautious,  and  requested  others  to  decide  the  too  diffi- 
cult problem.  Another  view  was  now  propounded  by  the  celebrated 
Swedenborg.  He  argued  that  the  raising  up  of  the  semilunar  valves 
during  the  contraction  of  the  heart,  when  the  blood  is  expelled  into 
the  aorta,  precludes  its  passage  then  into  the  coronaries;  and  that 
the  stretching  of  the  coronaries,  and  their  pressure  by  the  full  aorta, 
contributes  to  the  same  preclusion.  Moreover,  that  to  suppose  the 
heart  supplied  with  blood  by  regurgitation  from  the  aorta,  would  be 
to  ascribe  to  the  latter  a  new  action  different  from  what  it  exerts 
upon  the  other  blood-vessels;  nay  to  claim  for  it,  after  the  discharge 
of  its  functions,  a  stronger,  inverted  and  retrograde  action  upon  a 
body  the  most  muscular  of  any.  These  considerations  led  him  to 
infer,  that  the  coronary  arteries  do  not  arise  from,  but  terminate  in 
the  aorta;  that  they  are  veins  relatively  to  the  heart,  although  run- 
ning into  the  beginning  of  the  arteries  of  the  body.  The  doctrine 
in  brief  is  this : — that  the  heart  as  the  head  of  the  vessels  and  the 
fountain  of  the  blood,  itself  requires  the  firstling  blood  for  the  exer- 
cise of  its  noble  offices,  and  cannot  hold  its  life  by  tenure  from  one 
of  its  own  arteries,  which  would  be  to  invert  all  ideas  of  the  order 
of  nature.  The  heart  is  already  full  of  blood,  and  if  fluids,  or  fluid 
persons,  like  solid  persons,  move  with  greater  velocity  in  proportion 


THE  COMMUNION  OF  THE  HEART.  189 

to  their  life,  the  best  blood  in  this  race  will  continually  outrun  the 
rest,  and  always  first  in  the  heart,  will  skirt  along  its  porous  walls. 
Now  what  structures  do  we  find  upon  those  walls,  but  caverns,  jagged 
cavities,  and  at  the  bottom  of  these  a  number  of  little  holes,  the 
foramina  of  Thebesius.  Into  these  caverns,  then,  miniature  ventri- 
cles in  the  great  ventricle,  hearts  of  the  heart,  the  quickest  blood  is 
received,  and  the  pores  open  with  all  their  hearts  to  take  it  in.  And 
when  the  heart  contracts,  it  drives  out  the  general  blood  of  the  body 
into  the  grand  aorta,  but  its  own  particular  blood,  detained  in  the 
cavernous  lacunas,  it  squeezes,  slippery  with  spirit,  through  its  walls 
into  its  muscular  substance,  and  thence  onwards  and  outwards  to  the 
surface,  into  the  coronary  arteries  and  the  coronary  veins,  from  which 
there  is  a  reflux,  when  necessary,  into  the  auricles  and  ventricles. 

It  was  also  held  that  various  currents  of  blood  exist  in  the  heart, 
and  in  short  a  multiple  communion,  one  object  of  which  is,  the  pro- 
duction of  a  successive  order  or  series  of  stages  in  the  blood  itself, 
fitting  it  for  its  manifold  operations.  This  was  brought  to  bear  upon 
another  subject,  namely,  the  influence  of  the  mind  upon  the  heart. 
We  must  here  spend  a  few  lines  in  considering  this  well-known  cir- 
cumstance, on  which  we  shall  have  much  to  say  presently. 

From  the  oldest  times  the  sympathy  between  the  mind  and  the 
heart  has  been  acknowledged.  The  records  of  disease  likewise  show, 
that  the  heart  is  affected  and  altered  by  the  state  of  the  mind,  and 
vice  verm ;  and  that  powerful  feelings  will  cause  palpitation,  faint- 
ing, and  even  sudden  death  from  their  influence  upon  the  heart. 
Now  the  heart  is  the  centre  of  the  sanguineous  system,  the  organ 
from  which  the  motions  of  the  blood  begin,  and  the  bed  in  which 
its  pressure  terminates.  And  the  reader  will  recollect  (p.  178)  that 
the  brain,  the  organ  of  the  mind,  carries  the  influences  of  the  mind 
along  the  nerves  to  every  part  of  the  capillary  circulation,  and  pro- 
duces in  the  capillary  body,  for  it  is  the  body,  throughout  the  day, 
a  motion  restless  and  ever-changing  like  the  fluctuations  of  the  atmo- 
sphere. This  is  the  nature  of  our  human  mind.  If  we  recur  to  the 
instance  of  blushing  and  universalize  it,  we  easily  understand  what 
is  meant  (p.  178).  But  in  this  continuous  fluid  system,  every  in- 
constancy in  the  circulating  current  produces  its  effect  upon  the 
centre — upon  the  heart;  and  in  this  way  the  whole  play  of  the  mind 


190  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

becomes  transferred  to  this  wonderful  organ.  Again,  every  muscle 
that  moves,  whether  in  breathing,  standing,  walking,  manual  labor? 
eating,  or  in  whatever  other  way,  throws  the  venous  blood  forcibly 
and  newly  upon  the  heart,  and  affects  its  condition.  Of  this  we  have 
evidence  in  the  operation  of  bleeding,  in  which,  when  the  arm  is 
tied  to  prevent  the  blood  from  returning  through  the  veins  to  the 
heart,  and  the  fist  is  rapidly  doubled,  or  even  the  fingers  worked 
about,  the  current  squirts  in  forcible  jets  from  the  opened  vein. 
What  then  must  be  the  squirt  of  the  venous  blood  heartward,  in  a 
wrestle  of  the  whole  body,  or  during  a  rapid  run  ?  Moreover,  where 
the  frame  is  enfeebled  by  long  disease,  and  the  patient  is  bed- ridden, 
the  motion  of  rising  into  the  erect  position  sends  dangerous  jets  to 
the  heart,  in  many  cases  oppressing  it  beyond  recovery,  and  leading 
to  swoon  and  death.  And  where  there  is  disorder  of  the  heart,  the 
muscular  exertion  of  undressing  and  stepping  into  bed,  will  cause 
prolonged  anguish,  until  the  heart's  circulation  is  equilibrated. 
These  are  proofs  that  the  state  of  the  circulation  affects  that  of  the 
heart,  and  that  the  movements  of  the  body  affect  the  circulation; 
and  we  have  already  seen  that  the  mind  is  continually  playing  upon 
the  capillaries,  and  the  capillaries  referring  their  disturbances  to  the 
heart.  The  question  arises,  Is  there  any  provision  in  the  heart  to 
enable  it  to  maintain  its  own  constancy  in  the  midst  of  the  fluctua- 
tions of  the  blood,  and  to  make  it  the  head,  ratio  or  balance,  as  well 
as  the  heart  of  the  too  mobile  circulation  ? 

This  problem  has  not  been  unnoticed  by  physiologists,  and  Mr. 
Abernethy  in  particular  endeavored  to  connect  the  solution  of  one 
part  of  it  with  the  foramina  of  Thebesius.  It  is  here  that  Sweden- 
borg's  doctrine  of  these  foramina  and  the  coronaries,  finds  its  strong- 
est present  attestations.  According  to  this  view,  the  varying 
quantities  of  blood  returned  upon  the  heart  find  an  outlet  through 
the  walls  of  the  heart  itself,  and  equilibrium  is  thus  maintained  by 
the  coronary  vessels ;  so  that  the  heart  plus  the  coronaries  equals 
all  the  forces  of  the  circulation;  while  the  heart  minus  the  corona- 
ries is  a  comparatively  regular  force  uninfluenced  by  the  general 
state  of  the  system.  Were  it  not  for  such  provision,  the  heart  would 
be  at  the  mercy  of  extraneous  influences;  the  most  important  organ 
of  the  trunk  would  have  no  stability,  but  would  in  the  end  yield, 


FEAR.  191 

and  be  distended  into  a  bladder  or  membrane;  incapable  of  anything 
but  the  most  passive  recipiency. 

It  is  contended  on  this  view  that  there  is  a  representation  of  the 
mind  by  the  heart  in  the  manner  in  which  the  latter  equilibrates 
the  blood  by  the  channels  of  the  coronaries;  for  the  passages  may 
vary  in  different  hearts.  Thus  in  case  the  blood  has  a  tendency  to 
run  out  of  the  heart  through  these  avenues  into  the  aorta,  it  repre- 
sents a  want  of  firmness  and  courage;  and  universally  during  fear 
the  systemic  arteries  empty  themselves,  and  the  blood  runs  away 
into  the  veins.  On  the  other  hand,  when  the  blood  tends  to  keep 
in  the  heart,  and  to  press  back  into  the  right  auricle,  it  indicates  a 
firmness  and  strength  of  the  nervous,  arterial  and  venous  systems. 
And  in  this  way  these  animal  qualities  are  based  upon  the  construc- 
tion, tendencies  or  habitual  channeling  of  the  heart.  Now  we  know 
from  our  sensations  that  different  feelings  cause  different  actions  in 
our  breasts;  for  example,  that  in  hard  and  firm  resolve,  the  heart 
seems  to  stand  its  ground,  and  not  to  let  one  soldier-globule  ooze 
away;  that  in  moments  of  timidity  the  pit-a-pat  of  flight  and  dis- 
array seizes,  and  the  ear-drum  beats  the  inglorious  tune  of  "  devil 
take  the  hindmost :"  also  that  in  melting  moods  the  heart  goes  with 
the  eyes  and  lips,  slipping  and  trickling  away  from  its  station  as  it 
were  a  tear.  Further,  we  know  that  courage  and  fear  are  constitu- 
tional to  certain  persons.  And  can  we  doubt  that  their  constant 
action  upon  the  heart,  implies  in  the  first  place  a  corresponding  fa- 
bric in  that  organ,  and  in  the  second,  a  continual  alteration  of  the 
fabric,  as  the  mental  state  and  circumstances  vary.  For  it  is  to  be 
said  that  the  principles  of  the  mind  will  govern  even  the  heart,  and 
make  cowards  brave  in  the  second  nature  and  strength  of  conscience, 
or  abash  the  lion-hearted  when  that  higher  spirit  of  courage  is  gone. 

While  we  are  upon  this  theme  we  will  take  the  opportunity  to 
digress  for  a  moment,  to  dwell  again  upon  the  consistency  of  the 
body  as  exemplified  in  this  passion  of  fear ;  a  consistency  which  we 
have  already  shown  to  some  extent  while  treating  of  the  lungs  (pp. 
108 — 119).  Now  in  fear  the  heart  is  bloodless,  for  the  blood,  as 
we  said  before,  has  run  away  from  it;  the  lungs  are  aghast  or  ghost- 
less;  the  brain  is  mindless,  and  consciousness  gives  place  to  fainting; 
and  the  man  embodies  all  this  by  himself  either  sinking  down,  or 


192  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

running  away.  The  fact  that  we  avoid  what  threatens  us,  often 
with  an  instinctive  passion  called  fear,  formulizes  the  action  of  all 
our  parts  in  this  state.  The  spirit  or  mind  running  away  from  the 
brain  in  mortal  chilly  streams  down  the  back  bone;  sight  deserting 
the  swoony  eye ;  hearing  leaving  the  ear ;  spirit  running  off  also  by 
the  hair,  and  the  hair  standing  from  the  head ;  the  head  and  all 
parts  horribly  wide  out  and  erect  for  a  moment;  the  tendency  to 
universal  displacement  seen  in  head,  eyes,  tongue,  arms,  and  legs 
flying  out  and  away  from  each  other;  the  wind  shrieking  wildly  forth 
from  the  lungs ;  the  blood  rushing  pellmell  from  the  heart ;  the  ex- 
cretions running  from  the  bowels  and  the  bladder;  heat  falling 
through  abysms  of  cold,  and  life,  which  is  courage,  perspiring  from 
the  skin  in  big  drops  of  cowardice ; — these  are  all  the  same  passion 
in  different  parts  and  appearances.  In  all,  the  man  and  the  organs 
run,  or  tend  to  run,  from  the  place  of  terror,  which  is  not  only  the 
particular  locality,  but  the  body  itself;  wherefore  death,  or  running 
away  from  the  body,  is  not  an  infrequent  effect  of  fear.  Our  know- 
ledge, that  fright  produces  running  aivay,  carries  us  through  the 
effects  of  fear  upon  all  the  organs,  and  we  need  no  other  principle, 
but  only  the  details  of  this,  to  explain  the  state  of  the  blood  in  the 
case,  or  indeed  of  any  of  the  parts,  whether  solid,  fluid,  or  mental. 
We  may  now  generalize  further,  and  afiirm  that  the  broadest  con- 
sequences of  every  passion  and  living  state  march  through  sphere 
after  sphere  of  the  body,  and  deposit  themselves  in  fresh  but  con- 
sistent shapes  as  they  visit  fresh  provinces.  Thus  love,  which  clasps 
its  objects  to  its  own  bosom,  draws  closer  the  parts  of  the  loving 
brain,  and  makes  harmony  of  thought ;  it  knits  the  blood  into  new 
relations,  and  as  the  newly-kinned  globules  touch  each  other,  the 
heart  becomes  its  body's  delight.  And  so  each  state  of  man  is  a 
human  frame  complete.  The  unlearned  world  may  follow  this  know- 
ledge, deep  and  depth-seeking,  using  broad  sights  as  an  organon, 
and  never  becoming  microscopic,  or  resting  in  anything  less  than 
limb,  trunk  and  head.  Common  life  is  the  college  to  teach  live 
physiology. 

Returning  now  to  our  immediate  subject,  we  observe  that  the 
theory  that  the  heart  alters  and  amplifies  the  blood,  is  supported  by 
the  analogies  of  the  principal  organs.     For  example,  the  brain  is  not 


CONCLUSION  OF  THE  CIRCULATION.  193 

the  mere  centre  of  the  nerves  j  it  is  not  a  simple  turn  of  fibres  in 
which  sensations  are  converted  into  motions,  but  new  faculties  are 
there  piled  upon  the  summit  of  sensation,  and  the  brain  is  a  com- 
manding head  to  the  nervous  system.  So  the  larynx  is  not  a  sim- 
ple enlargement  of  the  windpipe,  but  a  super-addition  of  gifts,  by 
which  plain  air  becomes  discourse,  and  is  cast  into  words  of  mean- 
ing, the  vocal  symbols  of  intelligence.  So  the  tongue  is  not  a  mere 
thickening  of  the  unconscious  gullet  and  stomach,  but  a  capital  organ 
in  which  sensation  is  added  to  the  other  functions  of  the  intestinal 
canal.  And  so  man  is  not  merely  an  eclectic  centre  of  the  world, 
but  he  is  a  spiritual  world  also,  and  a  set  of  miracles,  if  he  chooses, 
playing  their  will  with  animalities.  In  fine,  wherever  there  is  a 
head,  it  does  not  differ  from  its  subordinate  parts  in  size  and  situa- 
tion alone,  but  also  has  a  freer  life  than  they,  and  exercises  supreme 
functions  additional  to  theirs — functions  both  more  in  quantity  and 
novel  in  quality.  Therefore,  to  recapitulate,  the  heart  itself  both 
commixes  the  elements  of  the  blood ;  builds  them  up  in  a  regular 
series;  and  levels  and  balances  the  general  circulation ;  and  all  this, 
in  addition  to  the  functions  which  it  performs  for  the  arterial  system 
below  it,  of  propelling  the  blood  through  the  body ;  and  for  the 
nervous  system  above  it,  of  receiving  and  representing  the  fluxions 
and  passions  of  the  mind.  In  this  way  we  have  a  first  draught  of  a 
beginning,  a  middle  and  an  end,  to  some  purposes  of  the  human 
heart. 

Here  we  conclude  our  first  view  of  the  heart,  which  we  have  found 
to  be  more  than  a  cross  road,  or  convergence  of  vessels;  in  fact,  to 
be  the  metropolitan  city  of  the  blood,  the  interests  and  business  of 
whose  home-inhabitants  are  of  primary  importance  in  the  system. 
We  have  then  now  three  great  divisions  of  this  subject,  viz.,  the  cur- 
rent through  the  lungs,  the  current  through  the  body,  and  the  in- 
habitation and  uses  of  the  most  privileged  blood  in  the  heart  itself. 
In  other  words,  we  have  the  doctrine  of  the  circulation  from  the 
moderns,  and  a  justification,  more  modern  still,  of  the  flux  and  re- 
flux of  the  blood,  heart-felt  and  intuitively  seen  by  the  genius  of  the 
ancients. 

As  to  the  doctrine  of  the  circulation  which  was  demonstrated  by 
our  great  countryman,  Harvey,  it  newly  teaches  us  the  import  of  the 
17 


194  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

circle,  by  life  and  substance  added  to  the  strictness  of  mathematics. 
It  is  also  a  cardinal  instance  in  a  line  of  universal  truths.  For  there 
is  a  circle  of  all  things,  as  there  is  a  circulation  in  the  human  body. 
Not  a  fluid  is  contained  in  our  frames,  but  according  to  its  perfec- 
tion aspires  to  circulate  on  the  model  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood. 
There  is  a  grand  current  from  the  fluid  to  the  solid,  and  from  the 
solid  back  into  the  fluid;  a  circulation  of  perpetual  life — "formation, 
destruction,  and  reformation/'  (p.  174.)  There  is  a  circulation  from 
the  universe  into  the  body,  through  the  food,  the  skin,  the  lungs, 
the  senses,  the  brain ;  a  circulation  back  again  from  the  food,  the 
♦skin,  the  lungs,  the  actions,  and  the  mind  itself.  And  the  world  is 
an  everlasting  circulation.  The  mineral  ascends  into  the  vegetable, 
and  both  into  the  animal,  and  all  into  man;  and  man's  body  de- 
scends into  the  dust,  and  completes  its  circle  there.  In  short,  where- 
ever  we  go,  we  meet  this  old  emblem  of  eternity :  the  Midgard- 
serpent  with  his  tail  in  his  mouth  hoops  the  whole  world  round ; 
ends  and  beginnings  meet,  and  nature  is  bending  round  from  her 
first  issues  towards  her  source;  like  the  weapon  of  the  Australian, 
she  comes  back  into  the  hand  that  flings  her,  and  the  human  body 
is  a  permanence  of  her  cycles,  which  are  the  pulses  of  our  hearts. 


The  heart,  in  common  with  the  other  organs,  is  the  subject  of  a 
twofold  discourse,  and  has  two  sets  of  books  and  votaries  appropri- 
ated to  its  consideration.  Indeed  we  may  say  that  the  present 
world  has  two  hearts,  which  have  very  little  to  do  with  each  other. 
There  is  the  one  heart  of  which  Shakspeare  is  an  interpreter,  and 
the  other  where  Harvey  reigns.  Two  Englishmen  have  been  high 
priests  in  the  service  of  these  two  organs,  and  it  would  seem  to  be- 
long to  the  same  race,  to  mix  the  flames  of  the  altars  into  one  com- 
mon pyre  and  ascension.  Shall  Cupid  then  learn  anatomy,  and  the 
ace  of  hearts,  transfixed  with  his  ancient  dart,  stand  for  something 
in  Carpenter's  Physiology,  or  in  the  dissecting  room?  The  one 
heart,  it  is  to  be  observed,  is  much  older  than  the  other;  the  heart 
of  love  beats  through  human  tongues  before  sciences  were  born;  its 
affirmers  are  that  great  cloud  of  men  now  above  and  beyond  us,  who 


THE  WORLD  ON  THE  HEART.  195 

lost  to  individual  ken,  make  the  cope  of  the  past  blue  and  immense; 
mythology,  poetry,  and  language  itself  are  the  bright  points  in  this 
firmament,  which  still  ray  down  to  us  the  same  message  about  this 
primitive  and  perennial  heart.  Every  man  is  still  valued  in  this 
sense  by  his  heart.  Every  feeling  comes  from  it  and  goes  to  it. 
Resolve  stands  in  it,  or  melts  away  from  it;  hope  deferred  makes  it 
sick;  fortune  sits  upon  the  wheel  of  its  capacities;  it  makes  the 
breast  by  which  man  touches  man,  or  comes  fairly  forth  from  its 
cage  on  great  occasions,  when  heart  touches  heart.  The  most  touch- 
ing thing  in  the  world,  it  is  the  most  tangible  too;  it  feels  before 
the  fingers,  and  pulls  the  words  from  the  speaker's  tongue  by  an* 
anticipated  hearing.  We  should  rather  say,  that  all  this  is  attribu- 
ted to  it  since  the  beginning  of  time.  Nor  is  the  attribution  lessened 
to-day,  but  the  air  of  the  nineteenth  century  vibrates  with  this  heart 
and  its  properties  wherever  free  or  common  speech  endures.  But 
we  cannot  overlook  the  fact,  that  another  heart  has  come  upon  the 
carpet. 

The  scientific  heart  is  that  hollow  muscle  of  which  we  have  spoken 
in  the  foregoing  pages;  four  rooms  with  nobody  living  in  them;  and 
the  hollow  muscle  has  not  been  slow  to  suggest,  that  the  ancient 
heart  is  a  figure  of  speech,  and  only  exists  metaphorically.  Mean- 
time, however,  the  latter  cedes  nothing  of  its  prevalence,  but  the 
words  which  express  it  are  guarded  by  the  whole  atmosphere  of  life, 
and  keep  their  places  under  a  weight  of  forty-five  passionate  pounds 
to  the  square  inch.  Heavy  dictates  of  sense  will  not  allow  them  to 
be  evaporated. 

Hence  arises  imperfection  and  struggle.  For  an  animal  with  two 
hearts  is  lower  in  the  scale  than  an  animal  with  one,  or  in  which  the 
two  are  twined  cordially  into  a  single  organ.  And  then  for  struggle, 
science,  which  has  so  much  to  learn  by  heart,  makes  a  continual 
enemy  by  setting  up  another  heart  beside  that  which  has  to  learn  it. 
But  if  the  two  could  come  together,  science  would  rise  into  warm- 
blooded life,  and  memory,  its  register,  would  enlist  a  new  set  of 
feelings  in  its  service,  and  would  become  long  and  tenacious  like  the 
heart  itself  in  the  higher  sense.  To  say  nothing  at  present  of  other 
advantages. 

It  is,  however,  a  fair  question,  notwithstanding  the  tyranny  of 


196  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

common  speech,  whether  we  be  justified,  and  to  what  extent,  in  as- 
signing feelings  to  the  heart,  and  making  a  heart  of  the  feelings  ? 
Whether  the  quickness  of  words  be  according  to  a  method  that  the 
structural  heart  has  known  and  sanctioned?  In  short,  whether  com- 
mon sense  is  a  great  instinctive  anatomist,  or  not?  Certainly,  if  it 
could  be  shown  that  the  passions  belong  to  the  heart,  with  all  their 
vocabulary;  with  the  heat  they  receive  from  heaven,  or  summon 
from  the  abyss;  with  the  power  they  shoot  through  limb  and  brain; 
with  their  play  and  balance  at  the  core  of  society;  with  their  issues, 
circuitous  and  direct;  with  their  countless  insinuations,  successions 
and  intermixtures;  with  their  lava  that  lies  at  some  depth  under  the 
coldest  action,  and  sustains  the  vaulted  breast  of  man  upon  an  oven 
of  flames;  if  they  and  their  progeny,  we  say,  could  be  charged  upon 
the  heart,  the  scalpel  would  have  new  artifices  to  employ,  to  get  a 
sight  of  these  wonderful  natives,  and  the  professors  of  death  might 
well  be  startled  to  see  the  children  of  fire  walking  among  the  sciences. 
The  question,  therefore,  becomes  the  more  pregnant  from  the  new 
labors  which  an  affirmative  answer  would  enjoin,  and  from  the  alarm 
which  proof  itself  would  cause  to  all  but  common  people. 

What  then  is  the  nature  of  the  evidence  that  the  feelings  live  in 
the  heart?  The  evidence  itself,  we  reply,  if  considered  apart  from 
language,  is  a  mere  matter  of  feeling.  Herein  lies  the  strength  and 
weakness  of  the  case,  so  far.  The  evidence,  true  to  the  organ,  is 
circular :  the  heart  is  a  self-supplying  knot  of  affirmations.  Stat 
pro  ratione  voluntas,  is  the  heavy  hammer  of  this  logician.  It  is 
because  it  is,  is  childish  and  hearty — a  ring  of  wilful  fire;  there  is 
no  reason  in  it  any  more  than  in  the  heart,  which  is  a  Yea,  Yea,  of 
everlasting  man,  approving  himself  by  living  and  by  feeling. 

Feeling,  however,  thus  affirmative  and  infinitely  irritable,  and  in- 
violable in  its  circle,  gives  no  knowledge  of  the  subject,  and  where 
knowledge  is  in  question,  though  feeling  will  not  yield,  yet  of  itself 
it  cannot  conquer.  If  the  case  rested  here,  we  could  not  infer,  ex- 
cept remotely,  a  constant  connection  between  the  heart  and  the  emo- 
tions. We  might,  or  might  not,  remember  the  pulses  of  our  own 
passions;  we  might  notice  our  acquaintances  beating  and  striking 
their  breasts  when  the  furies  were  at  them ;  and  so  a  few  violent 
instances  might  fix  themselves,  iu  which  feeling  and  the  heart  were 


THE  WORLD  ON  THE  HEART.  197 

together.  But  feelings  have,  moreover,  tongues,  and  are  the  best  of 
talkers;  they  are  notorious  for  hitting  the  nail  upon  the  head;  they 
make  all  men  into  their  poets,  and  are  the  authors  and  founders  of 
languages.  The  words  which  convey  and  assign  the  feelings  are 
masterpieces  of  justice  and  felicity,  and  hold  the  sheer  perceptions 
of  our  brightest  moments.  They  shine  with  suggestion  from  age  to 
age.  In  language,  therefore,  feeling  becomes  a  staid  and  intelligible 
substance,  and  when  the  feeling  is  past,  we  note  what  it  was  by  the 
hearty  words  that  it  uttered.  Moreover  language  is  a  common  pro- 
duct, and  chronicles  the  feelings  of  the  world;  for  the  soul  talks  to 
be  heard,  and  therefore  speaks  by  a  vocal  compact.  It  is  therefore 
no  solitary  sound,  but  the  voice  of  mankind  to  which  we  now  listen, 
and  which  identifies  the  heart  with  the  feelings. 

There  is  no  point  on  which  language  is  more  trustworthy ;  for  the 
heart  itself  is  physically  as  well  as  feelingly  at  the  bottom  of  the 
wells  of  language.  So  near  is  it  to  the  lungs,  that  the  words  in 
which  it  signalizes  itself  are  like  the  bubblings  of  its  own  blood. 
If  the  heart  were  wrong  in  every  other  synthesis,  we  should  still 
expect  it  to  be  right  here.  And  so  when  a  chorus  of  nations  and 
tongues  chimes  forth  that  their  hearts  have  feelings,  we  believe  from 
a  triple  persuasion  that  those  hearts  know  best  about  it,  and  have 
made  them  say  it;  and  we  take  them  at  their  word. 

So  far,  therefore,  the  case  proceeds  upon  the  joint  testimony  of 
feeling  and  speech,  and  we  may  now  say,  upon  the  witness  of  the 
heart  and  lungs  themselves  speaking  from  the  life.  They  were  not 
summoned  to  give  their  testimony,  but  it  was  extant  in  their  exist- 
ence. Gesture  and  speech,  which  are  heart  and  lungs  marched  into 
the  world,  without  hesitation  identify  heart  and  feeling. 

It  is  on  the  same  grounds  that  we  aver  the  whole  of  what  we 
know  best  respecting  the  living  body;  as  that  the  body  contains  the 
soul;  that  the  mind  is  in  the  head,  and  then  in  the  brain;  and  that 
the  senses  are  in  their  organs.  And  in  truth,  to  doubt  of  these 
inhabitations  or  connections  would  depopulate  the  physical  frame  of 
its  lives,  and  striking  out  common  sense  from  the  scientific  faculties, 
would  float  the  body  away  from  its  cables,  without  a  crew,  a  pilot, 
or  a  destination. 

Pathology  also,  or  the  science  of  disease,  is  equally  clear  upon 

17* 


198  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

the  point  we  are  maintaining;  for  violent  feelings  not  only  agitate, 
but  may  kill  the  heart  in  a  moment;  in  short,  broken  hearts  are 
medical  facts,  and  the  tearing  of  the  organ  is  often  coincident  with 
agonized  feelings. 

But  why  insist  upon  a  fact  which  nobody  denies  ?  Our  answer 
is,  that  truths  are  not  well  treated  when  they  are  only  not  denied : 
we  desire  that  these  greatest  truths  of  the  heart  should  not  simply 
be  assented  to,  and  then  passed  over,  but  used  as  keys  to  its  organ- 
ization. We  desire  that  every  feeling  which  warms  the  bosom, 
should  find  a  place  in  the  scientific  heart,  and  give  it  the  same  life 
which  it  gives  to  its  human  prototype.  We  desire  to  conciliate 
Shakspeare  and  Harvey,  that  the  genius  of  the  one  may  cohabit 
with  the  genius  of  the  other ;  that  man's  real  life  may  not  be  missing 
from  his  blood ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  that  the  doctrine  of  the 
circulation  may  make  a  prouder  orbit,  and  gain  its  rightful  swoop 
through  life  and  history.  For  ever  the  world  is  a  chaos  of  truths, 
but  fluctuating  and  inapprehensible ;  but  when  they  are  fixed,  the 
dry  land  appears,  and  habitable  ground  or  proper  creation  begins, 
a  centre  is  struck  whence  order  flows;  and  now  we  essay  to  fix  this 
floating  allegation  of  the  heart  to  the  feelings,  that  it  may  become 
moored  to  a  solid  bottom,  and  gathering  up  all  its  parts  and  parti- 
cles, present  a  sward  to  the  sun  of  knowledge,  whose  light  and  heat 
dwell  with  man  alone. 

What  then  is  the  voice  of  common  experience  as  to  the  feelings 
which  are  assigned  to  the  heart  ?  Evidently  the  heart  stands  for  the 
affections,  and  the  man  devoid  of  natural  affection  is  said  to  be 
"without  a  heart."  Our  first  business  is,  to  dissect  the  verdict  of 
language;  and  the  result  may  be  stated  as  follows.  The  friend  is 
a  man  with  a  heart;  friendship  is  one  of  the  affections  commonly 
denominated  by  the  organ.  The  good  mother  has  a  heart  which 
beats  towards  her  offspring.  The  lover  has  a  heart,  and  is  a  heart, 
towards  his  love.  The  citizen's  heart  is  for  his  birth-place  and  his 
country:  he  has  a  public  affection  or  love;  a  sense  that  he,  and  a 
certain  space  with  its  contents,  are  warm  and  related  to  each  other. 
These  are  the  chief  natural  feelings,  to  be  short  of  which  is  to  be 
morally  disgraced  or  diseased,  and  cut  off  from  the  bonds  of  healthy 
mankind.     We  are  also  commanded  to  love  God  "  with  our  whole 


THE  HEART  OF  FEELING.  199 

heart,"  but  this  is  no  part  of  the  mere  nature  of  which  we  are  now 
speaking.  There  are  innumerable  other  attributions  of  feelings  to 
the  heart,  but  they  are  either  subordinate,  or  may  be  classified  under 
the  foregoing. 

Each  of  these  feelings  is  a  warmth  or  fire  peculiar  to  itself;  each 
gives  a  different  glow  in  the  breast;  each  shines  with  its  own  life  in 
its  going  forth.  Yet  they  are  one  inseparably  twisted  ray,  which 
seen  from  its  end  is  the  quadrine  star  of  human  nature.  They  are 
the  withes  and  band-makers  of  our  societies ;  and  they  not  only 
draw  their  own  kind  about  them,  but  are  grappled  each  to  each  in 
the  fibrous  motives  of  a  mutual  self-preservation ;  kin  and  kind, 
parents  and  partners — they  are  one  man,  clasping,  and  clasped  by, 
his  fellows  in  the  fourfold  magnetism  of  nature. 

Let  us  see  then  whether  these  feelings  have  any  correspondence 
with  the  fleshly  organ;  in  other  words,  whether  the  flesh  be  intelli- 
gibly alive,  and  whether  their  signatures  be  legibly  written  upon 
the  muscular  tables. 

We  stated  in  the  foregoing  pages  that  the  heart,  by  the  blood- 
vessels, is  everywhere  present  in  the  body,  and  that  the  frame,  in 
one  point  of  view,  is  a  double  tree  of  arteries  and  veins.  Assuming 
that  feeling  and  heart  are  synonymous,  each  arterial  space  is  of 
course  a  part  of  the  extended  firmament  of  feeling.  The  organs  of 
the  senses,  for  example,  are  a  fivefold  feeling  of  the  external  world, 
receiving  its  impressions  of  five  kinds  through  these  channels.  The 
sensories,  however,  are  neither  more  nor  less  than  so  many  blood- 
.  works,  constructed  and  maintained  by  the  circulating  streams.  Sen- 
sations are  received,  not  in  dead  organs,  galvanized  by  the  brain, 
but  in  a  bed  of  structural  desire,  where  the  mind  meets  and  marries 
them,  and  carries  them  to  the  head.  The  heart  then  produces,  by 
continuity,  and  at  a  distance,  these  animal  tendencies  to  five  classes 
of  external  objects. 

We  do  not  deny  the  empire  and  influence  of  the  brain.  Each  part 
of  the  body,  however,  is  alive,  and  each,  so  far  as  possible,  is  inde- 
pendent. The  heart,  and  all  the  feelings,  live  from  the  brain  at 
last,  but  the  brain  has  sunk  its  capital  in  building  them,  and  they 
are  no  longer  convertible;  they  are  not  brain,  but  heart  and  feelings. 
They  are  alive,  as  their  architect  is  alive ;  and  we  cannot  too  often 


200  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

repeat,  that  there  is  nothing  but  life  in  the  body,  and  no  life  with- 
out feeling,  or  quasi-feeling.  We  say  quasi-feeling  to  express,  that 
even  where  the  feeling  is  inscrutable  and  unconscious,  we  dare  not, 
in  reason's  interest,  give  it  up  as  feeling.  Where  all  seems  not 
only  dead  to  us,  but  contradictory  to  our  life,  we  still  know  that  we 
are  at  work  with  the  same  versatile  tools ;  we  know  by  our  brains 
that  we  are  feeling  in  our  very  bones,  although  we  never  feel  our 
bones  but  when  the  nail-prints  of  pain  or  inflammation  are  shown 
to  us.  So  far  as  we  carry  this  feeling  into  our  studies,  so  far  we 
are  exploring  the  living  body;  so  far  as  we  do  not,  we  are  groping 
in  dead  flesh,  and  making  a  science  of  corpses. 

We  do  not  now  investigate  the  problems  of  embryology.  The 
order  in  which  the  body  is  formed,  is  one  thing ;  the  order  in  which 
it  subsists  and  acts,  is  another.  The  king  is  not  less  a  king  because 
he  was  once  elected  out  of  his  own  subjects;  and  the  history  of  his 
elevation  is  a  distinct  subject  from  that  of  his  functions.  Let  us  cut 
off  questions,  and  take  limited  fields  to  cultivate.  In  these  pages 
we  treat  of  the  adult  heart,  and  what  it  is,  leaving  a  thousand  prob- 
lems to  be  treated  at  other  times,  and  by  other  persons. 

To  proceed  from  one  expanse  of  feelings  to  another,  the  blood- 
space  which  we  call  the  lungs  is  the  bodily  affection  for  those  two 
ends  which  we  term  air  and  thought,  whence  the  synonymous  ex- 
pression of  both  by  the  word  spirit.  The  coincidence  of  thinking 
and  breathing,  the  representation  of  what  goes  on  in  the  mind  by 
what  is  proceeding  in  the  respiration,  is  conclusive  as  to  the  fact 
here  set  forth.  The  lungs  therefore  are  the  love  of  air  on  the  one. 
hand;  the  bodily  love  of  intellect  on  the  other;  the  processes  by 
which  they  inspire  the  atmosphere  being  the  same  as  those  by  which 
they  rouse  and  inspire  the  mind;  thus  deep  breath  will  produce 
deep  attention;  at  all  events,  a  careful  minding  of  the  air  as  it  is 
drawn  in,  if  no  more  intellectual  object  be  present  to  the  brain.  It 
is  here  to  be  remarked,  that  whether  we  say  that  organs  have  feel- 
ings, likings,  or  loves,  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing :  for  feelings 
are  agreeable  or  disagreeable;  and  an  agreeable  feeling  once  expe- 
rienced, leads  to  a  desire  to  obtain  it  again  at  another  time,  which 
desire,  the  child  of  love,  henceforth  becomes  the  active  point  in  the 
feeling.     Therefore  the  eye  is  impregnated  with  the  love  of  the  vis- 


THE  HEART  OP  FEELING.  201 

ible  world,  and  the  skin,  of  the  tangible  world,  from  the  first  sensa- 
tions onwards;  and  to  gratify  these  eye-loves  and  touch-loves,  the 
body  is  set  in  motion  in  the  service  of  their  organs.  It  will  here 
be  remarked  again  that  we  are  speaking  of  full-grown  senses  and 
sensations,  and  that  we  by  no  means  enter  upon  any  question  con- 
nected with  the  growth  and  genesis  of  these  feelings. 

We  have  now  therefore  located  sense,  bodily-felt  intelligence,  and 
the  feelings,  respectively  in  the  organs  of  the  senses,  in  the  lungs, 
and  in  the  heart  itself,  and  we  have  seen  that  the  organic  system  of 
thought  is  parallel  in  the  three  cases,  and  that  the  same  reason, 
namely,  feeling  and  speech,  which  has  caught  light  in  the  eye,  and 
hearing  in  the  ear,  has  also  surprised  spirit  in  the  lungs,  and  love 
in  the  heart.*  This  short  analysis  suffices  to  mark  out  certain  dis- 
tinct continents  in  the  psychological  map,  and  to  show  that  the 
living  body,  though  all  compacted  of  feeling,  yet  distributes  it 
countrywise ;  the  heart  being  the  central  land,  where  accordingly 
the  feelings  proper  inhabit,  whilst  the  term  feeling  in  the  other 
parts  is  changed  for  that  of  sense,  respiration,  &c.  Terms  however 
shift  according  to  the  occasion  when  our  course  lies  through  new 
contexts 'and  expediences. 

We  now  then  assume  it  as  indisputable  that  the  feelings  dwell 
in  some  sense  in  the  heart,  for  experience  dictates  this  conclusion; 
we  feel  their  correspondence  with  a  certain  glow,  beating,  and  sense 
in  the  breast,  and  this  unfailing  correspondence  it  is,  that  forces  us 
to  say  that  the  cause  is  present  and  agent  where  the  effect  is  felt. 
Language,  to  which  we  have  referred,  is  the  voice  of  this  well-known 
fact.  Let  us  now  adopt  this  law  of  correspondence  as  an  instru- 
ment, and  proceed  to  apply  it  further. 

The  physical  heart,  we  will  presume,  lies  before  us,  and  as  we 
have  now  exhausted  the  present  information  to  be  derived  from  our 
feelings,  we  can  only  regard  the  heart  in  its  physiological  functions. 
The  question  is,  whether  these  exhibit  any  correspondence  with  the 
emotions ;  whether  auricle  and  ventricle,  and  their  bloods,  are  ex- 
pressive of  passion,  somewhat  as  the  face  is  expressive ;  whether, 
in  short,  the  structures  of  the  heart  in  action  are  not  a  countenance 

*  Let  it  be  borne  in  mind  that  we  use  the  term  love  in  no  limited  or  sexual 
sense,  but  as  embracing  those  active  central  impulsions  that  connect  mankind 
everywhere  to  their  human  objects. 


202  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

in  which  the  play  of  the  feelings  may  be  detected  ?  If  so,  we 
shall  make  matters  of  feeling  into  fresh  objects  of  sight  and  sense. 
Let  us  try.  The  attempt  is  one  of  synthesis,  or  the  putting  to- 
gether of  the  pieces  of  language  and  passion  on  the  one  hand,  and 
of  the  pieces  of  heart  or  blood  on  the  other,  in  one  doctrinal 
machine.  In  such  a  composition,  it  is  manifest  that  fittingness  will 
be  the  test  of  truth ;  and  that  if  the  love-heart  interlocks  with  the 
fleshly  heart  by  the  dove-tails  of  a  just  analogy,  what  we  at  present 
propose  will  be  accomplished.  We  shall  see  the  veritable  clasps  by 
which  the  two  are  grappled  in  word  and  in  fact. 

Certainly  the  heart  shows  all  the  signs  of  loving  the  blood,  which 
is  the  fearful  and  recognized  symbol  and  casket  of  human  life,  for 
it  grasps  at  the  blood  eighty  times  every  minute.  With  quadruma- 
nous  hands  it  clutches  the  passing  life-stream.  If  the  life  is  indeed 
the  blood,  and  is  in  the  blood,  as  the  Bible  says,  then  the  heart 
grasping  the  blood,  is  the  very  love  of  life,  and  in  our  case  of  human 
life.  Its  eagerness  is  apparent  from  its  work,  as  the  busy  hands  of 
men  show  that  they  also  are  con  amove  in  their  occupations.  And 
if  we  love  the  blood  of  our  race  and  kindred,  and  embrace  it 
through  the  skin  and  outworks  of  their  bodies,  much  more  does 
the  heart  love  its  own  blood,  which  it  squeezes  hot  and  naked  with 
its  ruddy  fingers.  Our  own  affections,  which  we  interpret  from 
their  actions,  are  far-off  types  of  this  affection  in  the  heart ;  which 
moreover  shows  an  answerableness  to  love's  common  signs,  such  as 
no  other  organ  testifies.  There  is  a  fiery  and  as  it  were  abstract 
purity  in  this  passion  of  our  bosom's  lord.  If  we  love  ourselves, 
the  heart  loves  the  life  which  is  the  self  of  self;  and  this  love  it 
shows  by  grasp  after  grasp,  by  a  zeal  which  never  sleeps,  by  fresh 
manipulations  of  the  blood  with  every  varying  feeling ;  in  short, 
by  all  the  signs  which  show  that  we  ourselves  are  in  active  and  im- 
passioned pursuit  of  our  objects ;  but  these  signs,  raised  to  a  con- 
stancy that  belongs  to  no  will,  but  only  to  nature,  or  the  fatal  will 
of  will ;  and  exempted  from  that  fatigue  which  makes  night  and 
day  into  the  blessing  of  mankind ;  for  the  heart  is  its  own  day, 
and  works  in  the  fire-factories  whether  the  outward  man  be  turned 
from  it,  as  in  sleeping,  or  revolve  round  to  consciousness  of  its 
influences,  when  his  morning  feelings  seem  to  rise.     The  heart  then 


THE  HEART'S  PASSION  FOR  THE  BLOOD.  203 

corresponds  to  the  love  of  human  life  by  its  everlasting  grasps  and 
embracings  of  human  blood.     By  its  deeds  we  know  it. 

It  may  however  be  said  of  this  reason,  that  when  we  see  other 
persons  acting,  we  infer  that  they  have  feelings  of  a  particular  kind, 
because  in  similar  actions  of  our  own  we  experience  these  feelings 
ourselves  :  but  that  the  works  of  our  hearts  are  not  a  parallel  case, 
and  therefore  we  cannot  argue  that  hearts  have  feelings.  To  this 
we  answer,  first,  that  hearts,  as  we  proved  before,  have  feelings,  and 
we  will  not  be  dispossessed  of  a  truth  which  we  have  got.  More- 
over we  are  not  arguing  that  question,  but  are  investigating  how 
hearts  show  their  feelings ;  and  we  have  now  found  that  they  do 
this  as  we  ourselves  do.  But  secondly,  we  do  not  say  that  the  case 
between  our  feelings  and  theirs  is  parallel,  but  correspondent  and 
like  )  and  of  the  attribution  of  feelings  and  life  in  this  way,  com- 
mon sense  gives  many  examples.  Why  do  we  attribute  passions 
to  the  tiger  or  the  dog,  or  gentle  feelings  to  the  lamb,  but  because 
we  know  that  passion  and  feeling  may  descend  many  stages  beneath 
our  consciousness,  and  alter  so  that  we  can  never  experience  them, 
and  yet  be  passion  and  feeling  still  ?  All  we  contend  for  is,  that 
the  heart  is  similarly  circumstanced ;  that  it  is  in  no  sense  dead, 
but  as  the  old  anatomists  said,  "  the  animal  in  the  animal ;"  in 
which  case  we  treat  it  as  we  treat  the  animal  kingdom,  and  infer 
life,  feeling,  instinct,  ends,  as  the  account  of  its  operations.  Our 
own  experience  and  faculties  are  therefore  as  fair  an  organon  for 
our  study  of  the  heart  and  the  other  viscera,  as  for  the  investi- 
gation of  natural  history,  to  all  whose  subjects,  feeling  and  thought 
give  their  own  lives,  in  the  certainty  that  they  will  fit,  and  more 
than  fit,  the  case.  And  in  proportion  as  the  feeling  is  broad  and 
common,  and  the  thought  scientific,  the  better  does  this  method 
succeed  in  exploring  the  actions  and  habits  of  the  lower  creatures. 
We  design  then  here  at  first  to  show,  that  we  may  safely,  and  must 
inevitably,  transplant  that  life  which  we  understand,  into  the  heart, 
as  we  have  already  carried  it  into  zoology. 

Dismissing  this  general  sign,  of  the  heart's  eagerness,  passion  or 
love  for  the  blood,  and  noticing  that  it  is  common  to  all  the  four 
chambers,  we  have  now  to  come  to  details,  or  to  the  specific  auricles 
and  ventricles. 


204  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

Let  us  commence  from  the  right  auricle,  which  is  "  the  first  part 
of  the  heart  to  live,  and  the  last  to  die;"  the  primordial  feeling  and 
the  latest  passion  of  our  bodies.  And  first  we  have  to  ask,  what  it 
is  that  this  hand  would  seize  ?  For  the  hand  has  many  objects,  but 
wherever  it  closes,  it  has  a  desire  of  possession,  and  the  grasp  is 
proportioned  to  the  object.  And  so  of  the  heart,  which  is  the  vis- 
ceral will,  or  the  inmost  hand  of  the  body.  Now  vessels  and  their 
contents  signify  one  and  the  same  thing,  under  active  and  passive 
conditions,  and  as  each  part  desires  to  perpetuate  its  life,  each 
grasps  at  its  alter  ego  in  the  fluid  form.  The  fluid,  therefore,  is  the 
index  of  the  solid  which  holds  it ;  the  organic  cup  answers  to  the 
cordial;  the  ruby  of  the  chalice  is  the  wine  in  a  mineral  metamor- 
phosis. We  have,  therefore,  to  interpret  the  desires  of  this  auricle 
by  noticing  their  objects.  What  are  they?  The  old  blood  of  the 
body,  the  elderly  blood  of  the  brain,  itself  wise  or  cerebrated  by  its 
visit  to  those  upper  regions,  the  return  blood  of  the  heart,  and  the 
white  young  blood,  or  the  conjoint  chyle  and  lymph,  meet  together 
in  one  common  chamber.  The  end  and  beginning  of  life  are  there 
represented  j  at  the  point  of  completion  of  the  circle  the  extremes 
of  existence  touch.  It  is  the  house  of  the  heart  where  the  elders 
behold  their  posterity  about  them.  All  that  could  die  of  the  old 
blood  during  its  last  generation  or  circulation,  has  been  put  aside 
through  the  medium  of  many  secretions,  and  the  activity  of  nume- 
rous organs,  and  in  the  heart  again  it  is  a  mere  abstract  or  passion, 
immortal  for  at  least  another  circle  :  hence  the  old  blood  is  but  the 
old  in  the  young,  about  to  continue  the  gyre  through  another  curri- 
culum of  ages.  Father-love  and  mother-love,  or  the  love  of  race, 
naturally  exists  in  such  a  group ;  the  bond  which  seizes  the  inmates 
is  that  which  makes  families  out  of  individuals.  The  tide  of  feel- 
ings sets  in  from  this  first  grasp  of  the  heart,  whose  contents  in  the 
right  auricle  are  embraced  by  the  family  tie.  The  free  blood  re- 
ceives the  impression,  and  is  a  patriarchal  clan.  The  right  auricle, 
the  first  parent  of  the  blood,  sends  down  parental  love,  as  the  first 
river  of  life,  through  all  its  generations,  and  also  recruits  itself 
every  moment  from  its  latest  offspring.  On  opening  this  chamber, 
then,  we  see  the  perspective  of  race  in  its  various  phases  j  proces- 
sions of  parents  and  children,  the  everlasting  progeny  of  the  heart : 


THE  VENTRICLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP.  205 

man  has  met  man  by  his  first  points  of  contact;  the  old  are  as  gods 
and  influences  to  the  young,  and  the  blood  of  our  hearts  is  no  longer 
vague  and  venous,  but  it  is  housed,  and  feels  in  the  home  the  powers 
of  time  descending  from  behind  and  from  above,  and  giving  it  the 
first  force  of  past  and  future  in  the  attachment  of  race.  We  gather 
therefore,  from  the  correspondence,  that  this  fire  of  natural  affection 
plays  upon  this  home  and  its  inhabitants,  and  teaches  them  to 
be  posterity.  We  call  this  the  hereditary  auricle,  into  which  the 
blood  flows  by  the  pressure  of  fate,  in  the  same  way  as  generations 
descend  from  the  sources  of  parentage. 

The  blood  is  now  no  longer  indeterminate,  but  has  received  the 
contagion  of  one  life;  the  first  cord  of  love  or  union  has  been 
passed  around  it,  and  it  is  full  of  the  household  warmth;  the  right 
auricle,  the  ancestor  of  all,  has  laid  hands  upon  its  generations. 
But  what  in  the  meantime  has  happened?  The  solid  has  grasped 
at  the  fluid,  the  love  at  its  object;  but  as  between  solid  and  fluid, 
where  the  solid  is  an  open  circular  channel,  it  is  plain  that  the  total 
object  can  never  be  caught;  the  attempt  at  seizure  forces  it  into 
progress :  the  maid  pursued  by  the  urgent  lover  is  turned  into  a 
stream  by  the  friendly  gods,  just  as  he  seems  about  to  overtake  her. 
The  right  ventricle  receives  the  one-lived  blood,  and  fills  with  it. 
What  is  the  character  of  this  new  object  of  the  heart,  at  which  it  is 
next  to  grasp  ? 

Into  the  right  auricle  several  streams  of  blood  distinctly  emptied 
themselves,  old  from  the  body  and  the  brain,  middle-aged  from  the 
heart  itself — though  this  in  small  quantity  compared  with  the  rest 
in  the  hereditary  cavity — and  infantile  blood  or  chyle  in  the  current 
of  the  rest.  It  was  family  which  the  heart  desired,  and  the  family 
tie  which  its  contraction  took  and  gave.  The  feelings  which  we 
have  in  our  breasts  were  there  at  work,  and  are  always  there  at 
work,  in  ^minimis,  upon  our  blood,  making  us  naturally  into  parents 
from  our  first  drops  upwards.  In  the  right  ventricles  we  have 
another  stage.  All  the  life  or  blood  which  is  not  permanently 
familiar,  eludes  the  grasp  of  the  auricle,  and  belongs  to  another 
chamber.  In  the  right  ventricle  there  are  no  distinct  streams  from 
different  sources,  but  its  blood  enters  it  by  a  single  great  orifice,  in 
one  uniform  gush.  The  right  ventricle  has  been  aptly  termed  the 
18 


206  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

mixing-vessel  or  chaos  of  the  heart.  Parentage  and  non-age  have 
both  disappeared,  and  the  area  is  equality  and  fraternity.  The  com- 
mon feelings  of  man  to  man,  philanthropy  or  the  friendly  affections, 
are  at  work  here ;  those  feelings  which  know  of  no  distinctions,  but 
only  of  brotherhood,  toleration,  and  even-handed  intercourse.  In 
the  family  loves  the  tie  is  unequal,  descending  from  parents  to 
children,  but  in  no  similar  proportion  reciprocated ;  this  being  neces- 
sary in  the  beginning  of  the  circulation,  in  which  progress  as  a 
spring  of  pressure  is  the  wheel  that  sets  the  rest  in  motion.  In  the 
philanthropic  passions,  however,  the  tie  is  double,  coming  from  both 
sides ;  hand  grasps  hand ;  the  muscular  contraction  of  the  organ  is 
closer ;  the  ventricle  of  our  friendship  is  of  twofold  strength.  Here 
then  we  have  the  blood-population  in  the  fiery  palace  of  the  heart, 
themselves  all  feeling,  with  no  distinction  of  high  or  low,  old  or 
young,  father  or  child,  and  what  direction  can  the  feelings  take  but 
that  of  universal  community,  of  friendship  in  its  various  phases  ? 
The  mere  apposition  of  lives  in  such  a  place,  and  under  these  cir- 
cumstances of  unrestraint,  is  sufficient  to  produce  the  relation  that 
throws  down  the  walls  of  other  distinctions  between  man  and  man. 
We  augur  then  that  the  friendly  emotions  play  especially  upon  the 
right  ventricle;  that  it  is  there  they  are  felt,  and  there  they  live, 
and  enter  the  blood,  giving  it  this  tie  momentaneously,  as  a  needful 
element  in  the  constitution  of  the  bodily  society. 

In  these  investigations  let  us  never  lose  sight  of  the  keeping  of 
the  subject;  of  the  fluid  which  we  are  pursuing,  and  which  is  both 
blood  and  life ;  and  of  the  organ,  which  is  Loth  heart  and  feeling, 
that  is  to  say,  heart  in  both  senses.  Blood  in  the  heart  is  different 
from  blood  in  the  head  or  the  belly ;  in  the  former  case  it  is  alive 
with  passion ;  in  the  latter,  it  hungers  and  thirsts ;  while  in  the 
head  it  is  subordinated  to  spirit.  Each  organ  has  its  genius  loci, 
which  possesses  everything,  even  the  most  transient  guest,  in  the 
organ.  To  come  then  within  the  sphere  of  the  heart,  is  to  feel  and 
to  be  all  that  the  heart  is  and  means;  for  the  heart  is  haunted 
ground,  and  there  is  no  escaping  its  influences.  So  it  is  that  when 
youth  and  maiden  come  under  the  grasp  of  the  heart,  or  when 
life  carries  them  into  the  sexual  auricle,  they  are  not  the  same  peo- 
ple, nor  have  they  the  same  names,  as  when  under  the  parental 


THE  BLOOD  ENTERING  PUBLIC  LIFE.  207 

roof,  or  in  the  friendly  conclave  j  but  love  has  located  them  afresh, 
and  gives  them  its  own  new  names.  This  is  a  needful  memorandum 
in  the  laws  of  the  heart  and  the  blood.  We  have  feeling,  the  fire 
of  life,  already  given  by  fact  in  this  organ ;  we  need  not  endeavor 
to  import  it;  the  business  is,  to  see  it  in  its  place. 

The  grasp  of  the  right  ventricle,  by  which  it  gratifies  its  friend- 
ship, throws  the*life  upon  the  lungs,  where  the  blood  and  the 
larger  world  first  meet,  and  here  the  humane  chaos,  which  is  at  its 
height  in  the  pulmonary  artery,  begins  to  be  discriminated  into  a 
new  order.  The  spirit  of  consideration  comes  in  the  spaces  of  the 
lungs.  In  these  reservoirs  of  the  voice,  the  blood  hears  and  takes 
part  in  the  public  murmur  expressed  by  the  breathing.  It  speaks 
forth  its  obstacles,  and  puts  them  off,  telling  its  mind,  and  regula- 
ting its  attachments.  Thought  and  breath,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
are  the  united  spirit  of  the  lungs  j  thought  and  breath  only  sub- 
sisting by  virtue  of  supplies  from  the  world.  The  blood  raised  to 
the  height  of  breathing,  is  full  of  public  imaginations;  it  has 
thrown  aside  childish  things,  and  is  polar  to  a  new  and  vast  ideal ; 
the  private  robes  and  windy  latitudes  of  its  childhood  are  put  aside 
in  expirations,  and  the  virile  or  public  toga  is  put  on,  with  the  new 
airs,  imaginations  or  liberties  that  belong  to  adolescence.  It  is 
inspired  with  the  service  of  the  corporate  body.  The  transition 
from  the  veins  to  the  arteries  is  an  incarnation  of  the  passing  over 
of  life  or  feeling  from  the  private  to  the  public  stage  j  of  mankind 
meeting  the  world,  and  flaming  with  a  new  lustre  of  eye  when  the 
great  objects  are  recognized.  The  public  air  is  thenceforth  inserted 
into  the  feelings,  whereof  each  goes  round  with  an  oxygen  mirror 
that  shows  it  the  universal  in  the  individual,  and  makes  it  shape  its 
face  and  gestures  into  historic  parallels.  Every  globule  of  blood 
thence  conceits  itself  that  it  is  a  man-maker  and  a  world-maker, 
and  it  is  braced  with  the  girdle  of  the  public  strength.  The 
feeling  in  the  lungs,  accordingly,  is  one  of  inspiration  and  erection, 
in  which  the  heart's  proper  feelings  swim  as  in  a  new  atmosphere 
of  power. 

The  change  of  the  blood,  from  venous  to  arterial,  takes  place  in 
the  lungs;  a  change  which  is  ably  represented  in  the  countenance 
under  the  influence  of  enlarging  or  enlivening  passions.     The  glow 


208  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

of  the  cheeks  when  life  is  in  force  is  due  to  the  same  cause  as  the 
glow  of  the  arterial  blood  (p.  182).  Powerful  healthy  feeling  is 
red  and  burning;  and  is  the  true  blood  and  the  only  animal  or 
living  heat,  to  which  nature,  with  deep  architecture  (p.  89),  adds 
mineral  or  dead  heat,  itself  also  red,  as  we  see  in  the  fire.  Cheeks 
and  fires  are  the  reasons  why  blood  is  red ;  inanimate  countenances 
and  cinders  are  the  reasons  why  it  is  dark  and  Venous.  Why  do 
we  glow  but  because  we  are  alive  with  some  public  spirit  or  motive  ? 
and  why  does  the  blood  glow,  but  because  it  is  alive  with  that 
public  spirit  the  air,  and  bound  thenceforth  to  act  according  to  the 
pressure,  and  to  assume  the  mission  of  the  universe  ?  We  are  not 
insensible  to  the  pleasant  weakness  of  this  theory,  but  we  are 
treating  of  the  circulation  and  twisting  reasons  into  circles.  To 
exhibit  it  let  us  say,  that  the  arterial  blood  is  red  because  the  pas- 
sions are  red,  as  witness  the  face  while  they  inflame  it;  and  on  the 
other  hand  that  the  face  is  red  because  the  impassioned  blood  is  red. 
Truly  a  circular  logic,  and  dear  to  the  heart  therefore.  We  should 
despair  of  understanding  any  organ  if  we  could  not  feel  with  it 
and  follow  it ;  and  to  follow  the  heart,  drives  us  into  self-supporting 
axioms.  For  the  heart  is  a  proposition  that  never  goes  beyond  a 
bare  statement,  but  pumps  through  us  the  substance  of  self-evidence, 
which  is  the  body  of  our  body.  The  truths  of  blood  and  feeling  are 
the  ipse  dixits  of  the  heart. 

We  have  now  left  the  private  or  venous  passions,  whereof  the 
first,  the  family  life,  ancestral  house  or  right  auricle,  represents  the 
impetus  of  time,  causing  all  the  movement  of  man  and  blood  by 
the  descent  and  tradition  of  generations ;  while  the  second  venous 
passion,  the  friendly  and  philanthropic  home,  or  right  ventricle, 
represents  the  indiscriminate  brotherhood  of  man,  which  gathers  up 
the  race  in  the  second  and  highest  of  the  private  bonds.  Both  of 
these,  as  we  say,  are  private  or  venous ;  domestic  in  the  narrow  or 
the  wide  sense :  in  their  largest  cases  it  is  the  private  sphere  expand- 
ing itself ;  for  a  whole  clan  is  private  and  immiscible  still  with  the 
rest  of  the  community,  and  the  largest  friendly  reunion  still  con- 
templates privacy  or  intimacy,  and  would  cease  as  such  the  moment 
it  were  touched  by  the  laws  of  another  love,  or  of  social  rank. 
Both   these  loves  are   hot — black-hot,  or  red-hot;  but  neither  of 


TIIE  MARRIAGE  AURICLE.  209 

them  can  flame,  because  they  have  not  met  the  air,  which  is  the 
public  in  contradistinction  to  the  private.  Public  feelings  are  there- 
fore the  arterial  blood  of  the  heart,  while  private  feelings  are  the 
venous.  A  complete  turn  of  objects  exists  between  the  two;  the 
right  side  of  the  blood  becomes  the  left  and  weak  side  seen  in  the 
airy  mirror,  and  the  left  side  becomes  the  right,  and  sits  at  the 
right  hand  of  power.  Every  public  object  proceeds  from  the  pub- 
lic to  the  individual — from  the  common  air  into  the  blood ;  where- 
as the  private  objects  run  from  the  individual  to  the  public,  or  from 
the  blood  towards  the  air.  The  meeting-point  of  these  two  efforts, 
and  of  the  feelings  which  run  with  them,  is  in  the  capillaries  of  the 
lungs,  where  the  air  converts  the  one  into  the  other,  and  where 
consequently  the  man  becomes,  and  feels  himself,  inspired. 

The  lungs  pour  the  blood  into  the  left  auricle,  and  the  first  mo- 
ment of  arterial  life  is  spent  here;  the  first  feeling  that  blushes  and 
runs  over  from  the  redundant  passion.  The  beginning  of  virility 
is  sexual  knowledge ;  the  mirage  of  Eve  at  the  fountain  is  a  vision 
of  rosy  flesh  seen  as  her  own,  and  yet  felt  as  other  than  her  own. 
Love  stands  at  the  gate  of  the  larger  life,  and  revels  in  its  flower. 
The  arterial  lungs  are  the  puberty  of  the  blood,  coming  from  the 
dreams  or  imaginations,  with  whose  hints  and  incentives  the  air  is 
full.  The  left  auricle  is  the  marriage-bed  where  the  tension  of  this 
bursting  life  is  continually  taken  down,  and  renewed  continually. 
Accordingly  this  auricle  or  bed  is  the  most  hidden  of  the  chambers, 
decently  curtained  away  by  the  rest,  and  least  to  be  felt  from  the 
outside.  It  supports,  and  is  supported  by,  the  family  auricle,  with 
which  it  moves  in  step ;  the  synchronism  of  parts  with  different 
functions  showing  the  harmony  of  different  ends,  and  their  ultimate 
working  for  each  other.  The  first  arterial  life  of  man  is  then 
sexual  love,  whose  early  stage,  preceding  conjunction,  is  incarnated 
or  ensanguined  in  the  arterial  circulation  of  the  lungs,  and  its  con- 
summation is  in  the  left  auricle,  which  grasps  at  the  paired  and 
mated  blood,  to  realize  sex  and  marriage  as  one  of  the  four  corner 
stones  on  which  all  flesh  is  to  be  founded.  The  amorous  feelings 
therefore  play  upon  the  left  auricle,  where  nature  is  always  doing 
their  work. 

We  have  drawn  a  distinction  between  the  private  or  venous,  and 

18* 


210  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

the  public  or  arterial  sides  of  the  heart,  but  it  might  seem  as  if 
this  left  auricle  and  the  passion  that  lives  in  it  were  both  of  them 
of  an  intensely  private  character.  Let  there  be  a  great  distinction 
noted  then  between  private  and  secret  functions.  A  friendship  that 
is  noticed  by  all  the  world  is  not  the  less  a  private  friendship, 
whilst  a  marriage  consummated  in  the  most  secret  bower,  and  in 
the  bosom  of  midnight,  is  public  and  regular  notwithstanding. 
The  council-chambers  of  nations  are  most  secret,  and  yet  most 
public  in  their  relations  ;  they  resume  the  state  in  a  concentrated 
form.  Hence  the  public  chambers,  or  left  side  of  the  heart,  retire 
from  view  to  transact  the  public  business  of  the  feelings ;  the  pri- 
vate business  is  comparatively  open  and  forward,  and  is  not  meddled 
with  because  it  is  known. 

But  is  the  sexual  relation  arterial,  aerial,  or  public  ?  Philoso- 
phers discuss  at  great  length  the  me  and  the  not  me,  and  the  rela- 
tion between  them.  There  is  no  such  instance  of  this  as  sex,  which 
is  me  and  not  me  reciprocally ;  each  incommunicable  to  the  other, 
and  each  fitting  and  enjoying  the  other.  Man's  most  external  world 
(for  he  has  several)  is  woman,  the  living  mould  of  himself  and  his 
faculties.  In  her  he  first  knows  that  there  must  be  real  size  in  the 
feelings,  or  two  beings,  who  may  be  conjoined,  but  cannot  be  iden- 
tified, could  not  be  together  there.  In  short,  sex  or  distinction  is  the 
beginning  of  breadth  and  body,  of  resisting  spaces  which  can  never 
sink  into  each  other,  but  must  lie  side  by  side.  Moreover  the  sex- 
ual distinction  is  the  most  manifest  between  human  beings,  and  the 
dress  which  makes  it  secret  makes  it  public  also. 

We  repeat  then  that  the  left  auricle  is  that  in  which  the  analogue 
of  love  proper  is  introduced  into  the  blood,  and  where,  by  the  laws 
of  harmony,  that  love  is  physically  felt  in  the  blood  which  is  doing 
its  work  infinitesimally.  The  reasons  of  this  in  brief  are,  that  the 
first  adolescence  of  the  blood  is  passed  here,  and  love  crops  existence 
in  its  bloom  ;  that  it  moves  with  the  right  or  family  auricle,  there 
being  a  co-existence  of  the  conjugal  and  parental  ties;  that  it  leads 
into  the  patriotic  heart  or  left  ventricle;  the  state  being  the  congre- 
gate of  all  the  broad  or  spacious  relations,  of  which  marriage  is  the  unit 
and  the  beginning;  finally,  though  at  the  top  of  the  public  impulses, 
it  is  the  most  secret  of  the  chambers,  and  is  not  merely  the  house, 


THE  PATRIOTIC  HEART.  211 

but  the  bed  of  the  organ.  Whatever  difficulty  there  be  in  explor- 
ing it  may  be  assigned  to  its  own  crimson  modesty,  and  will  furnish 
a  fresh  proof  of  its  chaste  or  sexual  signification. 

The  grasp  of  the  auricle,  which  consummates  this  life  in  the  blood, 
drives  it  onwards,  as  before,  into  the  next  chamber,  or  the  left  ven- 
tricle. The  signification  of  this  fourth  heart  cannot  be  doubtful. 
It  is  the  accumulated  power  of  the  passions.  The  blood  that  it 
throws  forth  is  scarlet  with  force — it  is  the  systemic  circulation. 
It  is  synchronous  with  the  friendly  heart,  but  fourfold  stronger.  It 
forms  the  apex  of  the  cordial  pyramid,  which  beats  against  the  ribs, 
and  aims  at  the  world  though  its  dearest  flesh.  It  is  public  feeling 
in  all  its  forms,  and  we  have  already  anticipated  its  name,  and  called 
it  the  patriotic  heart.  Rule  and  empire  throb  for  ever  here,  founded 
in  the  purple  of  the  blood.  The  body  corporeal  streams  from  the 
height  of  the  left  ventricle,  as  the  body  politic  from  the  heart  of 
dominion,  which  is  the  instinctive  architect  of  the  state.  If  vice- 
gerency  of  functions  establishes  connection  between  life  and  organ- 
ism, then  the  love  of  country  or  empire  must  sit  upon  the  throne 
of  this  ventricle,  whose  lordly  stroke  reaches  the  confines  of  the 
body,  and  seizes  the  central  blood  itself  with  a  conqueror's  grasp. 

In  the  successive  consideration  of  the  blood  or  feelings  in  the 
heart,  the  life  of  the  blood  is  an  ultimate  fact,  which  we  need  not 
endeavor  to  account  for.  It  is  a  given  truth,  that  the  heart  or  blood 
has  the  feelings,  and  it  is  no  part  of  our  business  now  to  speculate 
upon  it.  As  it  is  with  the  child,  so  it  is  with  the  young  blood — it 
.  has  the  capacity  of  going  through  human  life,  and  of  being  and 
doing  whatever  lies  in,  or  issues  from,  the  heart.  Our  inquiry 
then  is,  mainly  as  to  the  incentives  or  circumstances  that  call  forth 
its  faculties;  in  short,  we  have  chiefly  to  chronicle  the  play  of  its 
human  games.  These  once  depicted,  will  answer  the  question  of 
the  reasons  of  life  more  deeply  than  that  question  can  now  be  asked. 

But  let  us  notice  in  this  place  that  the  life  which  the  blood  feels 
in  the  heart  is  cumulative.  Each  cavity  seizes  it  with  a  feeling 
whose  effects  it  does  not  lose.  The  family  bond  is  assumed  in  the 
right  auricle,  and  though  rendered  latent  in  the  right  ventricle, 
where  it  gives  place  to  the  friendly  tie,  yet  throughout,  the  blood 
is   the  -child    of   the    heart,  and    remembers   the   household  fire. 


212  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

Hence  life  is  added  to  life,  and  the  four  "  vital  principles"  of  the 
heart  are  simultaneously  in  the  adult  blood.  It  is  amusing  to  con- 
sider how  any  philosophers  can  have  sought  for  the  vital  principle 
in  so  many-lived  a  creature  as  man.  The  vulgar,  in  assigning  to 
the  cat  "  nine  lives/'  have  shown  an  example  of  common  sense, 
which  might  well  have  been  applied  towards  a  being  whose  vital 
principle  is  as  organic  as  his  body,  and  has  its  very  parts  over  again, 
or  how  could  the  body  be  alive  ?  Hence  in  the  right  auricle,  the 
blood-child  is  one-lived,  or  is  in  the  parental  leash ;  in  the  right 
ventricle,  the  blood-youth  is  double-lived,  has  received  a  second 
squeeze  of  passion,  or  represents  friendship's  hand  in  hand ;  in  the 
left  auricle,  the  blood-lover  is  treble-lived,  or  is  lover,  friend  and 
parent  in  one,  the  three  being  inseparable ;  in  the  left  ventricle,  the 
blood-man  is  in  the  service  of  the  state,  which  is  the  public  ordina- 
tion of  all  the  feelings,  or  the  carrying  them  out  into  the  body. 
Hence  the  left  ventricle  does  not  so  much  alter  the  blood  as  receive 
it  all,  and  give  it  high  public  fire.  We  now  then  see  what  it  is 
that  the  heart  confers  on  the  body,  and  that  it  is  the  same  set  of 
endowments,  only  organic  and  infinitesimal,  that  the  same  heart 
gives  to  the  man,  and  to  the  society. 

Such  is  our  equation  between  the  heart  of  feeling  and  the  heart 
of  flesh,  which  are  the  same  heart,  only  in  different  powers.  The 
blood-heart  =  V  heart;  the  love  heart  =  heart2;  the  heart  itself 
being  that  invisible  pulser  which  we  feel  under  our  ribs,  and  the 
knowledge  of  which  can  only  be  filled  by  a  conjoint  corporeal  and 
social  anatomy,  or  a  hearty  exploration  of  all  death  and  life.  "We 
have  indeed  drawn  out  the  parallel  on  only  the  most  general  grounds, 
and  know  far  too  little  of  the  feelings  on  the  one  side,  and  of  the 
heart  on  the  other,  to  enter  into  details.  But  if  the  learned  will 
bring  dead  hearts,  and  the  simple  their  living  ones,  to  a  fair  com- 
parison, we  can  now  no  longer  doubt  that  each  will  adopt  the  other 
with  most  specific  joy  and  claspings. 

Our  hearts,  we  have  said,  grasp  at  their  objects,  and  we  have 
tacitly  assumed  that  they  get  what  they  grasp.  But  how  is  this, 
if  they  simply  drive  the  blood  away,  and  pump  it  into  circulation  ? 
In  this  case  life  would  be  not  a  substance  but  a  mere  stimulus,  a 
perpetual  alcohol  of  illusions.     Let  us  remember  that  we  are  treat- 


THE  DIVERS  SPEEDS  AND  OBJECTS  OF  THE  BLOOD.   213 

ing  of  body,  and  of  a  realm  where  everything  is  bodily.  Does  the 
heart  then  obtain  nothing  of  that  which  it  clutches  ?  Is  the  ox 
muzzled  that  treads  out  the  corn  ?  And  is  all  the  real  blood  thrown 
outwards  from  the  monarch  of  the  feelings?  Analogy  forbids. 
If  the  heart  is  a  hand  that  grasps,  it  is  also  a  person  that  gets ;  it 
is  a  very  lord  of  its  own  objects.  The  caverns  with  which  it  is 
sculptured,  are  so  many  means  for  retaining  the  blood;  the  little 
mouths  with  which  these  are  studded,  are  eagerly  absorbent  and  re- 
tentive ;  and  as  the  heart  contracts,  it  fills  its  substance  with  im- 
mediate blood,  by  the  same  act  with  which  it  drives  the  mass  of  the 
blood  into  circulation  (p.  189).  The  heart,  we  aver,  takes  the 
central  and  most  living  blood.  This  it  does  by  the  love-laws  and 
justice  of  physics.  The  best  blood  is  the  fleetest,  and  enters  the 
cavities  first,  skirting  along  the  walls  (p.  189)  ;  the  next  living  is 
another  layer  which  comes  up  afterwards;  and  lastly,  into  the  mid- 
dle, comes  up  the  slowest  blood  in  the  rear.  The  assembled  blood 
in  each  cavity  is  grouped  in  a  peculiar  form,  and  contraction  works 
upon  it  according  to  the  form.  The  first  part  of  the  contraction  is 
stimulated  by  the  fastest  and  most  feeling  blood  proper  to  that  ca- 
vity, which  is  driven  by  the  dead  pressure  of  the  central  blood,  and 
the  counter-pressure  of  the  solid  walls,  into  the  substance  of  the 
heart  itself,  where  it  constitutes  the  realized  life  of  that  one  feeling 
or  heart-beat.  The  racers  however  are  different  for  the  different 
cavities;  the  family-blood  is  fastest,  and  wins  the  cup,  in  the  right 
auricle ;  the  amorous  blood,  in  the  left  auricle ;  and  so  forth ;  and 
centre  and  circumference  vary  as  the  goal  is  changed.  We  see  all 
this  well  enough  in  life  or  in  the  play  of  the  great  heart.  -  Each 
being  is  prompt  and  rapid  in  the  working  of  his  own  relations ;  he 
who  is  a  laggard  in  friendship,  comes  to  the  surface,  and  shines  with 
vigor  and  promptitude  when  love  catches  him  ;  showing  that  each 
man  belongs  to  a  centre,  and  lives  eminently  in  and  from  its  fires. 
And  for  the  parallel  of  the  first  point,  we  know  that  the  heart  is 
not  satisfied  with  grasping  at  its  objects,  and  feeling  their  slipperi- 
ness  and  flux,  but  that  it  must  have  possession,  or  the  hollowness 
of  perpetual  mockery  makes  it  cease  to  grasp. 

Although  then  the  blood  of  the  right  side  of  the  heart  is  private 
or  venous,  yet  it  is  its  most  spirited  portion  that  enters  the  living 
solid  of  the  heart,  and  feeds  the  home-fires  that  blaze  on  this  side 


214  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

of  our  nature.  Thus  this  blood  is  more  than  arterial  in  any  ordi- 
nary sense.  We  will  here  also  note  another  point  in  the  doctrine 
of  the  heart,  viz.,  that  the  flesh  is  prior  in  dignity  to  the  cavity; 
the  flesh  being  the  substance  of  the  heart  itself,  while  the  cavity  is 
only  the  general  high-road  of  the  circulation.  Harvey's  great  dis- 
covery has  had  the  effect  of  throwing  this  obvious  truth  into  the 
back-ground  for  a  season,  but  by  the  love  we  bear  to  whatever 
is  solid  and  central  in  our  hearts,  it  must  be  replaced,  and  the 
doctrine  of  the  circulation  subordinated  to  it.  The  body  will  be 
but  a  hollow  shell,  so  long  as  the  heart  is  regarded  from  its  hollows, 
and  not  from  its  substances.  But  in  order  to  investigate  these,  a 
new  course  of  observations  and  injections  will  be  necessary,  under- 
taken expressly  under  the  light  which  the  correspondence  of  the 
feelings  casts  upon  the  physical  organ. 

Here  we  begin  to  see  how  profound  is  the  reason  for  that  doctrine 
that  the  heart  absorbs  its  own  blood  through  its  walls,  and  does  not 
depend  upon  the  coronary  rills  for  its  supply,  which  would  beggar 
it  of  what  it  grasps,  and  put  an  end  to  its  motives  for  contraction. 
We  must  never  suppose  that  the  heart's  wisdom  lies  in  doing  that 
which  we  should  be  fools  to  do  in  similar  circumstances.  If  all 
the  stores  of  the  earth  passed  through  our  hands,  should  we  trans- 
ship them,  and  then  get  our  own  sustenance  back  in  a  little  skiff 
from  a  foreign  country  ?  Should  we  not  open  a  retail  on  the  spot, 
to  secure  ourselves  against  difficulties,  winds  and  tides;  and  come  as 
near  to  the  wholesale  stores  as  possible,  avoiding  the  dearness  and 
losses  of  trade?  And  if  it  were  the  monarch's  palace  through 
which  all  the  goods  were  carried,  as  in  the  case  of  the  sovereign 
heart,  would  he  not  take  the  pick  of  every  object  on  the  spot,  with- 
out trusting  to  any  honesty  less  than  that  of  his  own  eyes  ?  Our 
hearts  feed  more  at  the  fountain-head  than  our  societies ;  what  is 
wise  in  our  conscious  arrangements  is  but  the  broken  meat  of  the 
organic  wisdom:  the  passions  browse  upon  the  mountains  of  the 
heart,  and  lap  the  blood  of  the  life-covenant  at  first  hand.  We  feel 
that  they  are  our  bodily  life — that  they  are  our  blood,  and  that  if 
anything  in  the  world  goes  direct  to  its  objects,  it  is  they.  For  they 
are  the  exemplars  of  all-grasping,  all-possessing,  and  all-holding 
man;  and  the  heart  is  they. 


THE  COMMUNION  OF  THE  FEELINGS.  215 

But  we  have  to  notice  further  a  point  touched  on  in  the  preceding 
pages,  viz.,  the  mixture  by  emissary  rills  of  the  blood  in  the  various 
cavities  (p.  189).  On  our  principles,  it  is  a  psychological  necessity, 
and  must  suggest  long  trains  of  experiments.  Nothing,  we  know, 
can  be  more  mixed  or  miscible  than  the  great  primordial  feelings, 
and  the  mixtures  can  never  take  place  without  mixtures  between 
the  blood  of  the  contiguous  chambers.  To  instance  only  the  case 
of  the  conjugal  and  parental  relations,  how  could  these  subsist  unless 
by  the  most  liberal  communications?  The  parental  love  generally 
contains  the  conjugal,  and  vice  versa.  The  feelings,  as  four  pure 
atoms,  would  be  as  barren  as  nature's  chemistry  if  it  consisted  only 
of  simple  substances.  In  fact  we  may  say  that  the  main  office  of 
the  heart  consists  in  blendings;  in  the  intertwinement  of  private 
and  public  life ;  in  making  countless  binary,  tertiary  and  other  com- 
pounds of  the  feelings.  In  proportion  to  the  combination,  life 
arises,  rich,  delicate  and  lovely  from  the  ground  of  a  few  simple 
elements,  and  fair  kingdoms  adorn  what  would  otherwise  be  a  stony 
level.  On  the  purely  moral  side,  the  object  of  all  existence  and 
circumstance,  is  to  produce  single-heartedness  throughout  the  rela- 
tions; to  universalize  every  feeling  by  tincturing  it  with  the  rest; 
to  absorb  the  egotism  and  correct  the  weakness  of  each  through 
something  of  a  wider  love  inserted  into  each  from  the  others;  in 
short,  to  give  the  heart  its  last  unity,  by  impregnating  the  private 
with  the  public,  and  carrying  the  former  into  developments,  and  the 
latter  into  exactitudes,  that  neither  could  attain  on  its  own  account. 
Therefore  in  the  feeling  heart,  which  is  the  true  fleshly  heart  in  con- 
tradistinction to  the  stony,  mixture  or  communion  are  the  law  of 
life;  and  we  arrive  at  the  deduction  that  the  heart  is  a  high  forum 
of  intercommunication.  The  chambers  are  exclusive  enough  to  con- 
stitute separate  ends,  but  not  to  realize  that  fancied  independence 
and  unneighborliness  which  nature  abhors.  For  nothing  is  so  fluid 
as  feeling;  nothing  knows  so  little  of  walls  as  love;  of  barriers  as 
ambition ;  of  difficulties,  whether  fire  or  water,  as  friendship ;  or  of 
time's  weary  limits,  as  family  joy.  And  thus  we  conclude  on  this 
side  that  the  truths  of  communion  are  those  which  are  proper  to  the 
heart ;  and  that  they  are  greater  than  the  truths  of  trade  or  circula- 
tion, which  are  proper  to  the  arteries. 


216  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

But  how  are  we  to  see  this  in  the  anatomical  heart  ?  It  is  true, 
the  heart  itself  tells  us  that  it  is  there,  but  how  shall  we  make  it 
visible  ?  In  the  first  place,  by  holding  it  as  among  the  greatest  of 
facts,  and  not  losing  heart  in  it.  In  the  second  place,  by  investiga- 
tions and  injections  with  an  end  and  a  purpose.  In  any  case,  the 
beginning  of  success  must  lie  in  the  belief  that  the  physical  heart  is 
the  centre  of  blood  communion,  as  the  feeling  heart  is  the  centre  of 
human  communion;  a  fact  which  is  very  certain,  though  how  the 
case  stands  has  yet  to  be  worked  out.  Something  however  has 
been  probably  contributed  to  this  by  Swedenborg,  in  his  deduc- 
tions respecting  the  intercommunications  of  the  cavities.  In  the 
meantime  we  affirm,  that  the  heart,  which  unites  all  the  feelings 
and  their  blood-streams,  is  the  bodily  blood-maker  j  that  its  blood 
contained  in  its  own  flesh  is  so  transcendent,  that  it  keeps  gyrating 
through  the  centres  many  times  before  it  is  fatigued  or  exhausted; 
that  it  is  more  constant  to  its  objects  than  any  of  the  blood  of  the 
body;  thus  that  the  circulation  of  the  heart  is  not  to  be  termed 
circulation  but  community ;  or  if  circulation,  that  it  is  many  times 
circular — a  knot  of  living  rings;  that  the  left  side  flows  into  the 
right,  and  vice  versa,  without  the  intervention  of  the.  systemic  or 
pulmonary  circulations;  the  heart  being  a  spheral  thing  of  cycle 
and  epicycle,  a  globe  of  golden  girdles  suspended  in  the  central  life. 
Through  this  passes  the  great  arterial  curve  which  attaches  it  to  the 
earth,  and  the  pulmonic  ring  by  which  it  is  hooked  to  the  air;  but 
the  heart,  so  far  as  it  is  true  to  its  place,  does  not  swerve  from  its 
own  roundness,  but  remains  in  every  respect  central,  in  its  feelings 
alike  as  in  its  blood. 

If  this  be  so,  it  would  appear  that  the  ancients  were  engaged  upon 
this  higher  problem  of  the  circulation,  but  were  unable  to  solve  it, 
when  Harvey  came,  and  took  us  down  to  a  lower  field,  where  truth 
could  become  more  definite  at  the  time.  They  felt  the  fluctuations 
of  nature  in  their  bosoms,  and  argued  that  the  blood  went  to  and 
fro  in  its  channels.  There  was  a  manliness  and  mutuality  in  the 
thought  beyond  the  science  of  the  time;  for  certainly  the  immediate 
relations  of  the  heart  are  of  a  more  spiritual  power,  than  that  large 
and  roundabout  intercourse  which  makes  the  tour  of  the  world  be- 
fore it  touches  the  centre.     But  the  incompleteness  of  the  latter 


MORAL  PARALLELS.  217 

theory,  its  leanness  in  moral  significance,  its  comparative  heartless- 
ness,  had  to  be  seen,  before  the  former  could  touch  upon  physics. 
Moreover  the  harmony  and  union  between  the  body  and  common 
life,  required  to  be  known  and  stated,  before  ever  an  eye  that  could 
see  the  heart  of  man  could  come  into  the  world.  But  a  time  has 
arrived  when  the  feelings  of  the  ancients  can  be  vindicated,  or  when 
the  communion,  or  goings  and  returnings,  of  the  heart  itself,  can  be 
added  to  the  doctrine  of  the  circulation. 

It  may  be  urged  that  we  are  reasoning  all  along  upon  precon- 
ceived opinions,  which  is  not  the  method  in  vogue,  and  that  we  are 
expecting  nature  to  conform  to  our  ideas.  We  reply,  that  we  are 
investigating  the  heart  of  man,  in  which  the  main  evidence  is  the 
feelings.  From  the  height  and  in  the  compass  of  these  we  would 
observe  and  experiment.  The  relation  between  them  and  the  heart 
is  of  mathematical  power,  and  makes  prediction  into  a  duty.  We 
see  that  they  cannot  live  in  harmony  with  the  heart,  unless  it  be  so 
and  so;  we  argue  therefore  towards  the  fact;  but  leave  science  to 
find  it  out.  That  the  present  notions  cannot  be  the  last,  is  clear  as 
day;  for  there  is  not  a  common  feeling  of  mankind  that  attests  them; 
not  a  thought  of  human  life  that  connects  itself  with  them ;  not  a 
good  or  a  brave  heart  among  us  that  sees  itself  in  their  glass ;  and 
not  a  moral  truth  which  reposes  upon  their  basis,  in  the  same  way 
as  moral  relations  are  founded  upon  the  human  heart.  They  are  no 
better  than  tricks  of  hydraulics,  which  are  dead  mummeries  in  our 
spiritual  city.  The  living  body  disowns  them  with  horror  as  having 
no  souls. 

But  what  a  series  of  moral  parallels  the  current  physical  doctrine 
would  suggest!  Hearts  that  grasp  at  their  objects  for  lifetimes,  but 
never  catch  a  drop  :  disappointment  made  into  an  organic  principle  ! 
The  soul  and  body  founded  upon  illusions !  Hearts  that  are  as  dead 
as  flesh  can  make  them  when  sundered  from  our  well-known  life  ' 
Hearts  only  cognizable  post-mortem,  and  without  a  spark  of  out- 
spokenness or  candor ;  not  to  be  trusted  till  they  are  stiff  and  cold ! 
Hearts  without  individuality,  and  which  throw  everything  away  upon 
other  organs  !  Hearts  that  are  fourfold  prisons,  each  a  solitary  cell, 
where  the  felon-neighbors  feel  each  other  thumping,  but  have  no 
intercourse !  Hearts  whose  food  consists  in  their  own  regurgitations  ! 
19 


218  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

Hearts  in  short  which  are  bloodless,  lifeless,  sympathyless,  the  fools 
of  peddling  rills  of  circumstance,  purveyors  of  blood  to  the  troughs 
of  the  senses!  Carbon  and  oxygen  carriers,  or  coal-porters  and 
scullions  to  the  body  at  large  !  Truly  materialism  is  never  so  ludi- 
crous as  when  we  see  its  upshot  translated  into  the  terms  of  life. 

Our  aim  is  the  very  contrary.  We  desire  to  see  in  the  body  a 
heart  that  gains  its  object  every  moment,  and  in  so  doing,  ministers 
to  the  body  at  large.  In  the  man,  a  heart  that  throbs  with  the 
enjoyment  of  his  own  life.  We  desire  to  take  the  doctrine  of  the 
heart  from  our  noblest  breasts,  and  to  have  the  kingdom  of  the 
living  body  come  over  again  in  the  sciences  of  the  physical  body. 
We  desire  to  see  the  heart  central  in  its  relations,  unspent  in  its 
operations,  a  communal  sun,  giving  life,  but  keeping  life  for  itself. 
We  desire  to  see  its  separate  affections  open  as  day  to  the  warmth 
or  streams  of  their  neighbor's  lives  and  fires.  We  desire  to  see  the 
heart  built  up  before  all  things  from  its  own  immediate  objects,  and 
provoked  to  life  by  no  coronary  squirts,  by  no  circuitous  after- 
thoughts. In  short,  we  desire  that  the  heart  should  be  alive  and 
loving  j  that  the  blood  should  be  the  life;  very  much  in  physics  after 
the  same  fashion  that  the  Bible  commands  for  our  hearts  in  that 
which  in  these  days  of  divorce  is  thought  to  be  a  different  sphere. 
But  whether  or  not  the  present  doctrines  of  the  heart  may  not  be 
equivalent  to  the  treatment  of  man's  heart  by  the  world,  we  leave 
to  others  to  follow  out. 

In  this  place  we  will  take  occasion  to  illustrate  to  the  reader  the 
nature  of  abstract  ideas,  taking  our  instance  from  the  feelings,  which 
are  so  vital  to  us,  and  generally  considered  to  be  of  an  abstract 
nature  when  thought  about.  What  are  human  feelings  ?  In  the 
concrete,  i.  c,  as  substantial  things,  they  are  clearly  the  man  him- 
self alive  to  certain  relations.  Thus,  a  friendly  feeling  is  no  other 
than  a  particular  friend  through  whom  is  passing  that  motion  or 
emotion  which  produces  certain  results  when  occasion  serves.  So 
too  friendship  is  the  gathered  maniple  of  all  friends,  quick  with 
these  emotions,  and  gravitating  like  an  atmosphere  to  satisfy  them. 
What  then  are  the  feelings  in  the  abstract?  They  are  the  hearts  of 
these  same  people  with  attention  inwardly  directed  to  them ;  the 
skin  and  ribs  of  the  manly  image  are  peeled  away,  and  the  naked 


WHAT  ABSTRACTIONS  ARE.  219 

heart  is  contemplated.  The  true  process  of  abstraction  here  consists 
in  taking  away  everything  but  the  heart  or  cenfre,  and  regarding  it 
alone.  The  philosophers  have  made  it  lie  in  removing  everything, 
in  which  case  it  consists  of  words  unattached  to  objects.  Whereas 
its  essence  is,  to  find  the  core  of  the  thing  in  hand,  in  order  to  see 
its  relations  centrally.  Thus  again  in  the  case  of  the  mind :  in  the  con- 
crete, the  mind  is  the  man;  in  the  abstract,  the  mind  is  the  brain; 
the  difference  between  the  two  lying  no  whit  in  bodily  substance, 
but  in  clothing  or  development.  For  "pure  mind"  is  a  living  brain; 
and  mind,  as  commonly  used,  is  a  living  person.  It  is  necessary  to 
carry  this  ballast  about,  lest  words  should  fly  away  with  us.  It  is 
especially  necessary  in  treating  of  the  heart,  and  of  the  incarnation 
of  the  popular  heart  in  the  scientific  one.  But  by  no  process  of  ab- 
straction can  we  decompose  the  heart,  unless  indeed  we  find  out  a 
deeper  bodily  centre,  which  is  the  heart  of  heart :  which  organism 
will  then  be  a  more  pure  abstraction.  "We  have  indicated  this,  be- 
cause the  philosophical  belief  that  feelings  are  not  incarnate,  has 
been  a  principal  reason  why  the  scientific  world,  duped  by  metaphy- 
sical terms,  has  never  thought  for  a  moment  of  seeking  the  feelings 
in  the  heart. 

A  living  anatomy  then  gives  us  the  abstractions  of  which  human 
life  presents  the  concrete  substances ;  and  the  science  of  the  present 
inner  man  consists  in  tallying  the  world — le  monde — with  the 
organic  frame,  as  it  were  checking  the  one  by  the  other,  and  trans- 
lating the  one  into  the  other.  It  does  not,  however,  consist  in 
reasoDing  upon  language,  but  in  treating  language  as  one  among 
organic  things,  dipping  it  in  the  blood-streams,  and  setting  it  piece 
for  piece  against  flesh. 

Another  point  to  be  noted  is,  that  as  our  plan  is  one  of  concili- 
ation, we  by  no  means  wish  to  set  up  the  heart  against  the  head,  or 
to  deny  feelings  of  all  descriptions  to  our  minds.  We  grant,  on 
the  contrary,  that  the  whole  frame  or  soul-house  is  made  of  nothing 
else,  but  in  various  degrees.  The  man  radiates  from  the  central 
parts,  but  reposes  on  the  way  at  several  stations,  where  he  is  refresh- 
ed with  new  names  and  characters.  That  part  where  the  grosser 
consciousness  begins,  takes  the  credit  of  being  the  prime  habitation, 
whereas  the  feeling  is  a  line  with  several  nodes,  which  runs  down 


220  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

from  tip  to  toe.  Language,  which  proceeds  upon  feeling,  does  not 
attribute  to  the  brain  what  is  felt  there  only  mentally,  when  there 
is  another  place  where  the  same  thing  is  felt  bodily.  The  affections 
are  the  mind's  as  matters  of  thought,  but  not  as  matters  of  speech. 
They  belong  by  bodily  or  natural  correspondence  to  the  heart,  and 
are  felt  beating  there,  but  their  physical  motion  is  not  felt  in  the 
brain.  In  short,  but  for  the  heart,  they  would  not  be  carnally  felt 
at  all,  but  only  thought  about,  and  it  is  their  carnal  feeling  which  be- 
longs to  the  body.  On  account  of  this  they  are  passions,  for  we 
bond  fide  suffer  them  in  the  heart,  but  command,  or  ought  to  com- 
mand, them  in  the  head. 

We  are  now  then  prepared  for  attributing  in  the  same  bodily 
sense  other  things  to  the  heart,  without  prejudice  to  the  mind, 
which  in  truth  is  built  upon  the  heart.  Each  feeling,  let  us  remark, 
is  surrounded  by  its  own  film  of  imaginations,  which  body  forth 
what  it  is,  in  a  <^fm-intellectual  glass.  "The  imagination  of  the 
heart"  is  the  light  of  which  feeling  is  the  fire,  and  causes  every 
emotion  to  shine  with  its  own  peculiar  ray.  Where  are  these 
imaginations  localized  ?  On  the  inner  membrane  of  the  organ,  we 
reply ;  for  the  inward  skin  of  the  heart  is  its  blood-face,  in  which  it 
expresses  its  desires.  Skins  are  always  facial  structures,  and  ex- 
press what  lies  beneath  them.  By  this  membrane,  the  blood  and 
the  heart  understand  each  other,  or  look  in  each  other's  eyes,  which 
amounts  to  the  same  thing.  Imagination  then  is  localized  all  over 
the  cavities,  which  are  indeed  the  express  moulds  of  the  thoughts 
of  the  heart,  or  as  the  Scripture  phrases  it,  the  chambers  of  image- 
ry. If  we  desire  to  know  what  these  bodily  imaginations  are,  their 
shape  is  given  in  the  fine  membranes  which  transmit  the  emotions 
of  the  blood,  and  the  motions  of  the  heart,  reciprocally  to  each 
other,  and  make  them  acquainted. 

Imagination,  however,  in  this  case  the  heart-house,  consists  of  a 
common  chamber  with  two  doors,  and  here  we  remark  that  every- 
where, in  the  mind  and  the  body,  desire  opens  us  by  means  of  ima- 
ginations, and  thus  is  the  dilating,  opening  or  cavity-making  faculty. 
We  open  our  mouths  for  food  under  the  influence  of  hunger  work- 
ing through  and  shaped  by  the  imagination  of  a  supply :  we  make 
ourselves  hollow,  to  take  in  what  supports  and  enlarges  us.     We 


THE  IMAGINATION  OF  THE  HEART.         221 

open  our  hearts  to  receive  new  emotions;  our  minds,  to  receive 
new  ideas.  Every  desire  expands  us,  and  each  is  accompanied  by 
an  imagination  of  the  object,  which  limits  the  opening  to  some- 
thing like  the  proper  size,  or  constitutes  its  walls.  And  so  again 
we  are  presented  with  the  fact,  that  imagination  is  depicted  upon 
the  inner  walls  or  front  face  of  the  heart.  We  notice  in  the 
lungs  the  expansive  correspondence  of  imagination,  where  it  is 
manifestly  want  (p.  131),  or  an  elaborate  vacuum  produced  in  the 
man  by  nature  every  moment,  to  incite  him  to  new  infillings.  Ima- 
gination then  is  the  limit  to  which  the  walls  stand  off,  the  horizon 
of  present  life,  or  the  arch  of  the  caverns  of  desire.  It  is  different 
for  every  cavity,  according  to  its  shape,  objects,  colors,  &c. ;  but 
wherever  there  is  a  cavity  it  lives,  and  peoples  the  hollow  with  its 
teeming  forms.  It  is  here  to  be  noted,  that  desire  and  imagination 
are  one  and  the  same  thing  from  two  points  of  view;  the  desire 
being  the  hollow  or  void  that  we  feel,  per  se,  while  the  imagination 
is  the  same  regarded  from  the  walls  of  the  void,  which  imagine  it  full 
of  what  it  wants  to  occupy  it.  Thus  the  heart-desires  dilate  its 
cavities  before  the  blood  is  given  them,  and  in  the  momentaneous 
void  the  imagination  anticipates  the  tide  which  is  to  come ;  and  the 
heart  is  in  every  stroke  prepared,  both  by  roominess  and  welcome, 
for  the  new  life.  Thus  again,  supply  ah  extra  is  the  law  of  exist- 
ence, and  preparation  for  the  supply  a  part  of  the  same  law. 

In  the  heart  we  notice  valves,  which  prevent  the  life  current  from 
running  back;  in  the  feeling  heart  there  are  states,  or  spiritual 
valves,  which  hinder  the  life-loves  from  regurgitation.  To  make 
this  cleat  let  us  use  an  instance.  The  present  time  has  its  own 
fixed  point,  from  which  we  regard  the  past.  Manhood  can  only 
look  at  childhood  through  manhood  :  the  experience  and  circum- 
stances of  the  latter  are  the  present  state  that  flies  up  before  our  eyes 
in  all  attempts  to  reach  the  past :  in  short,  we  cannot  go  but  only 
picture  backwards.  If  the  imagination  is  very  transparent,  or  not 
greatly  colored  by  the  present,  then  we  call  it  memory ;  if  opaque, 
and  full  of  existing  passions,  then  it  is  merely  imagination,  which 
cannot  conceive  anything  beyond  the  hour.  In  both  cases,  however, 
it  is  properly  termed  a  state,  a  film  detached  from  the  present,  which 
is  applied  back  against  the  past,  and  constitutes  a  genuine  valve 

19* 


222  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

in  the  feelings.  Most  of  us  are  so  full  of  these  valves,  that  we 
cannot  attend  to  anything  but  the  present,  or  believe  that  we  ever 
were  little  children,  except  in  the  sense  of  time,  but  not  of  state. 
The  present  in  that  case  is  made  of  iron,  and  the  imagination  of  the 
past  is  a  hatchway  that  shuts  up,  and  transmits  no  beam  from  the 
infantine  days.  There  are  then  valves  in  life,  which  prevent  it 
from  going  back.  And  indeed  this  valve-function  is  universal. 
The  flaming  sword  that  turned  every  way  was  none  other  than  the 
valve  of  Paradise.  Death  also  is  a  valve,  which  nature  keeps  up 
during  all  moments  of  investigation,  or  regurgitation,  and  only  opens 
from  the  other  side  when  birth  is  to  take  place,  and  when  nobody  is 
thinking  that  it  is  the  same  door  through  which  the  old  citizens 
have  departed,  and  the  ne\7  ones  arrive.  Yet  the  same  it  is,  only 
shut,  contracted  or  earthy  in  the  one  case,  and  open,  alive,  fleshly 
and  maternal  in  the  other. 

Valves  then  in  the  feeling  heart  are  the  present  by  its  activities 
shutting  away  the  past ;  memories  are  the  states  of  the  present  in 
which  it  endeavors  to  image  the  past;  and  they  live  especially 
upon  the  roof  of  the  cavities,  or  upon  the  outspread  valves. 

The  heart  desire  causes  it  to  grasp  at  the  object  with  which  it  is 
now  filled,  i.  e.,  the  blood,  and  because  life  cannot  go  backwards, 
(for  the  present  stands  at  its  back,  and  keeps  it  from  the  past),  it 
must  go  forward  into  the  unknown,  where  no  imagination  can 
hinder;  for  imagination  is  our  limit,  but  of  the  future  we  have  no 
imagination  that  can  dare  to  bound  us.  To-morrow  is  therefore 
always  an  open  door,  and  time  streams  onwards.  And  yet  there  is 
an  imagination  of  the  future,  which  we  term  hope.  Hope* however 
is  not  a  wall,  but  a  hole  in  our  advancing  lives  through  which  the 
firmament  is  seen.  Its  sky  has  an  arch  of  definite  blue,  but  this 
is,  we  know,  not  the  end  of  things,  but  mercy's  color  for  the  weary 
point  of  all  our  sight-rays.  Hope  is  that  hole-work  in  our  nature 
through  which  we  see  the  heaven,  and  to  which  we  stream  by  pro- 
pulsion from  behind,  not  less  than  by  the  unresistingness  of  the  ori- 
fice, and  the  attraction  of  the  greater  space,  so  immense  and  so 
lovely.  These  hopes  lead  us  on  into  the  lungs  or  the  universe  of 
the  brain,  and  into  the  system,  or  the  universe  of  the  body.  As 
the  past  becomes  impossible,  the  future  opens,  or  as  the  blood  can- 


THE  HOPES  OF  THE  HEART.  223 

not  regurgitate,  it  is  driven  into  circulation.  Hopes  then  are  the 
doors  by  which  the  little  cavities  of  desire  and  imagination  commu- 
nicate with  the  great  cavity  where  light  shines  in  a  superior  degree, 
and  into  which  life  courses,  upon  the  principle  of  all  fluids,  which 
run  where  there  is  the  least  resistance.  This  it  is  that  gives  its  uni- 
form direction  to  the  current  of  time;  to  the  little  rivers  of  our 
heart's  blood ;  to  the  stream  of  experiences  from  infancy  onwards, 
and  to  the  career  of  humanity  from  Eden  until  to-day ;  the  heart 
being  the  fleshly  atom  that  is  involved  or  evolved  in  all  these  courses. 
The  law  is  the  same  for  them  all.  Wherever  time  or  blood  is  to 
run,  a  present  is  constituted,  a  valvular  state  runs  back,  and  hope 
becomes  doubly  open  from  the  impossibility  of  retrogression. 

Desire  then  is  the  heart-void  or  cavity,  imagination  is  the  heart- 
wall,  our  present  state  is  the  heart-valve,  and  our  hopes  of  the 
future  are  the  heart-orifices.  Thus  the  heart  of  feeling  and  the 
heart  of  flesh  are  identical  in  their  parts,  and  each  is  the  other's. 

It  would  be  useless  at  present  to  carry  the  analysis  and  synthesis 
further,  for  the  subject  would  run  into  subtleties  if  it  were  approached 
prematurely.  Let  us  be  content  with  the  above  generalities,  and 
bide  our  time  for  further  localization ;  for  the  soul,  long  estranged, 
will  not  come  to  live  in  the  body  all  at  once. 

We  may  however  here  obviate  an  objection,  viz.,  that  in  the 
above  views,  we  have  taken  no  account  of  the  anatomical  elements 
of  the  heart  j  but  have  attributed  consciousness  and  feeling  to  mere 
flesh,  when  yet  it  is  known  that  these  are  the  attributes  of  nerves 
and  nerve  substance.  We  do  not  deny  it.  But  we  observe  in 
reply,  that  although  anatomically  animals  live  in  their  nerves,  yet 
the  common  view  is  deeply  right,  that  the  animals  themselves,  with 
their  skin,  bone,  and  flesh,  are  alive  also.  And  we  are  now  looking 
upon  the  heart's  four  bodies  as  four  entire  animals,  each  animated 
by  its  own  life.  In  obedience  to  this  point  of  view,  we  study  the 
natural  history  of  the  heart-animals,  in  their  habits,  functions, 
actions,  and  not  in  their  nerves ;  we  study  them  alive,  and  know  of 
no  distinction  into  structures,  but  only  into  forms,  as  it  were  faces, 
limbs,  head,  and  the  like.  This  study  does  not  deny  the  other,  but 
postpones  it  so  long  as  we  are  making  a  separate  object  of  the  na- 
tural history  of  the  heart. 


224  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

Nor  is  our  attribution  of  consciousness  to  the  heart  without  the 
most  vast  suffrages  in  its  favor ;  indeed  we  may  state  broadly,  that 
every  organ  is  conscious,  as  the  whole  animal  kingdom  is  conscious; 
and  that  the  human  consciousness  is  nothing  more  than  the  collect- 
ive consciousness  of  all  parts  of  the  body.  In  general  the  whole 
field  of  consciousness  is  cast  into  the  shade  by  the  solar  or  central 
consciousness  of  the  brain,  which  we  call  our  mind ;  yet  at  all  times 
our  human  form  as  an  outline  full  of  life,  is  more  or  less  present  to 
us,  and  makes  us  embodied  men.  And  in  particular  conditions,  the 
consciousness  of  any  part  may  be  raised,  and  as  it  were  detached 
from  the  rest ;  the  viscera  may  take  on  humane  proportions,  and 
open  their  eyes  upon  the  scene ;  the  magnetic  animals  of  which  we 
are  made  up,  may  be  separately  excited,  and  powers  of  an  animality 
co-extensive  with  nature  may  spring  to  light  in  the  dark  chambers 
of  the  flesh.  This  is  because  life  is  like  itself  in  every  part,  and 
the  body  is  all  heart,  or  all  eye,  when  the  proportions  are  varied  in 
which  ordinary  wakefulness  and  sleep  are  mixed ;  thus  when  the 
sun  of  the  brain  goes  down,  the  other  organs  may  come  forth,  and 
show  their  ruddy  lustres.  For  we  cannot  too  often  repeat,  that  the 
human  body  consists  of  nothing  but  expanses  of  life,  all  of  which 
are  ensouled,  conscious  or  alive. 

Upon  the  circulation  itself,  as  contradistinguished  from  the  com- 
munion of  the  heart,  it  only  remains  to  repeat,  that  it  stands  in 
analogy  with  the  five  senses,  and  that  its  passage  through  the  heart 
represents  the  active  touch  which  rolls  the  wheel  onwards.  The 
arterial  blood  is  the  life  going  forth  to  work ;  the  venous  blood  is 
the  return  circuit ;  and  the  difference  between  them  can  be  best 
likened  to  the  man  full  of  resolve  and  affairs  going  forth  to  his  call- 
ing in  the  morning,  and  to  the  same  man  who  has  laid  care  and 
tension  aside,  and  is  returning  to  his  own  fireside,  to  enjoy  relaxa- 
tion in  the  evening.  The  difference  is  in  the  bodily  vigor  and  the 
mental  polarity.  Everything  is  distributed  into  arterial  and  venous 
in  something  of  the  same  way;  into  arterial  on  the  active  side, 
venous  on  the  passive :  the  day  itself  and  all  which  it  includes,  is 
arterial  from  the  morning  to  the  evening,  and  venous  from  the  even- 
ing to  the  morning  again. 


POWERS  OF  CORRESPONDENCE.  225 

It  is  now  time  that  we  should  speak  of  the  visceral  system  as  it 
is  connected  with  life  and  feeling,  and  explain  the  principles  upon 
which  such  connections  proceed. 

For  the  latter  point  we  have  assumed  as  our  organon,  that  the 
physical  and  mental  are  not  dissimilar,  though  different  things  j  on 
the  contrary,  they  are  so  similar  that  their  likeness  or  congeniality 
is  their  bond  of  coherence.  This  similarity  we  express  by  the  term, 
Correspondence.  We  find  that  the  body  and  the  soul  do  the  same 
errands  in  different  spheres;  that  the  man  respires  objects  and  the 
mind  thoughts,  while  the  brain  respires  spirits  and  the  lung,  airs ; 
which  two  latter  are  objects  and  thoughts,  inanimate  in  various 
degrees ;  also  that  the  will  circulates  affection  and  feeling,  while  the 
heart  circulates  blood,  which  is  bodily  affection  and  feeling.  Again, 
that  the  areas  thus  equated  influence  each  other  by  correspondence 
or  similarity ;  the  parts  of  each,  touching  and  associating  with  the 
parts  of  the  other  which  are  likest  to  them.  Thus  respiration  draws 
thought,  and  blood  invites  life,  to  incarnation.  We  shall  recur  to 
this  law  in  the  sequel,  where  it  will  be  better  understood. 

In  the  meantime  we  anticipate  further,  that  correspondence  al- 
ways implies  some  point  of  likeness  or  ground  of  association  between 
things  or  persons ;  and  communication  to  the  same  extent.  Cor- 
respondence by  letter  implies  a  common  interest  of  some  kind,  and 
communication  within  that  interest.  In  assuming  correspondence 
between  the  soul  and  the  body,  we  assume  intercourse  also.  The 
similarity  between  the  two  terms  is  the  principle  that  we  take,  and 
the  details  of  the  similarity  are  the  science  which  we  desirev  We 
see  two  persons — the  inner  and  outer  man — associated  together  \ 
and  when  we  find  the  objects  that  they  have  in  common,  we  know 
the  ground  of  their  intercourse;  but  if  they  have  all  objects  in  com- 
mon, though  different  fields  to  work  in,  we  are  certain  that  they 
were  reciprocally  made  for  each  other,  and  will  explain  as  well  as 
supply  each  other's  wants.  We  take  Correspondence  for  granted ; 
for  the  more  of  truth  we  take  for  granted,  the  more  we  gain  j  the 
inherited  fortune  of  common  sense  sets  us  up  in  business  in  the 
sciences.  Otherwise  we  must  take  for  granted  the  dissimilarity 
between  the  body  and  the  soul ;  and  the  non-correspondence  ;  and 
then  reason  will  not  hear  of  intercourse  between  two  things  that 


226  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

have  no  objects  in  common.  Success  or  failure,  but  not  preliminary 
arguirfg,  will  be  the  test  between  the  two  principles,  both  equally 
assumed. 

The  heart  is  one  of  many  viscera  connected  in  a  living  chain. 
As  the  supreme  organ  of  the  body,  it  has  a  complete  orbit  of  its 
own ;  the  rest,  as  inferior  orbits,  gyrating  around  it,  and  forming  an 
ascending  stair  of  entrails.  The  brains  and  nerves  are  the  mental 
organ ;  and  the  lungs,  an  intermediate  field,  lie  between  the  mental 
and  the  bodily  regions.  But  every  part  contains  the  rest;  the  brains 
are  omnipresent  both  by  substance  and  influences  ;  the  individuality 
of  no  part  excludes  them,  for  the  nerves  of  an  organ  are  its  peculiar 
brains.  So  also  the  heart  is  everywhere ;  the  bloodvessels  of  an  or- 
gan are  its  private  heart.  The  liver  is  everywhere;  the  bilious  fluids 
are  a  current  liver  wherever  they  run.  No  feeling  then  is  more  than 
central  in  any  organ;  it  has  circumferences  co-extensive  with  the 
body ;  for  the  principle  on  which  its  incarnation  depends  is  univer- 
sal. In  attributing  feelings  to  the  heart,  we  imply  that  they  are 
cordially  there,  but  secondarily,  by  dilution  of  correspondence,  they 
are  everywhere  else.  The  body  is  telegraphic  with  various  stations; 
the  messages  are  different  according  to  the  organs,  but  one  at  the 
fountain  head. 

If  the  heart  is  the  centre  of  the  bodily  feelings  or  visceral .  sensi- 
bility, then  on  the  same  evidence  (p.  195)  the  stomach  and  intes- 
tines have  feelings  of  their  own.  The  glow  of  content  and  satisfac- 
tion is  incomplete  until  its  quietude  is  poured  over  these  contorting 
parts.  The  warmth  of  wine  influences  the  mind  by  removing  un- 
easiness from  this  tube.  The  bowels  yearn  with  audible  tenderness 
when  the  softer  emotions  fill  them.  What  is  the  visceral  inhabit- 
ant that  touches  their  strings  and  feels  in  their  quivering  expanses? 
Common  sensibility  is  its  name,  as  inferior  to  the  definite  sentiments 
or  feelings  of  the  heart,  and  as  internal  to  those  other  feelings 
that  possess  the  five  senses.  This  susceptibility  is  a  well  known 
phenomenon ;  some  have  it  in  a  greater  and  some  in  a  lesser  degree ; 
but  it  is  always  a  magnetic  or  sympathetic  contact  with  things,  not 
on  their  outsides,  but  in  their  tender  inward  parts.  Those  who  are 
most  apprehensive,  feel  the  tube  in  constant  live  motions :  women 
especially  have  such  experiences,  and  must  know  more   than  men 


BOWELS  OF  MERCY.  227 

the  depth  of  the  Scriptural  phrase  "  bowels  of  mercy,"  and  of  the 
saying  that  those  who  are  devoid  of  pity  "  have  no  bowels."  The 
reason  or  ratio  of  these  common  words  is  clear.  For  the  good 
services  of  the  intestinal  tube  are  the  materiality  of  mercy.  It 
stands  at  the  bottom  of  the  vitals,  where  lowly  mercy  also  stands, 
for  mercy  must  be  at  the  bottom,  or  it  could  not  have  the  poor  and 
needy  for  its  objects.  It  is  at  the  top  also,  but  beginning  from  the 
bottom ;  for  it  is  the  glory  of  the  crown  above  the  head,  and  the 
beauty  of  the  feet  of  those  who  preach  glad  tidings.  This  mercy- 
tube  satisfies  hunger  and  thirst,  clothes  naked  ribs  with  fatness,  and 
lifts  the  starveling  into  the  company  of  full  men.  Furthermore,  it 
is  microscopically  true  to  its  charities;  it  raises  the  food  from  below, 
taking  the  infant  chyle  from  the  earth,  and  lifting  it  towards  the 
blood ;  and  searches  the  unclean  masses  to  redeem  any  parts  that 
can  be  saved.  It  yearns  over  the  new  offspring  of  the  blood  as  a 
mother  over  her  children.  Its  gifts  are  unexpected  and  undeserved, 
for  the  life  and  spirit  of  man  are  bestowed  upon  fruit,  flesh  and 
herb.  Long  suffering  is  among  its  offices,  for  it  makes  the  best  of 
whatever  is  put  into  it,  and  promotes  our  worst  meals,  forgiving  the 
abuses  of  our  appetites  seventy  times  seven.  Granting  that  mercy 
were  enclosed  for  a  time  in  a  prison  of  bowels,  what  could  it  do  but 
what  these  entrails  do  ?  This  is  the  reason  why  mercy,  the  full 
name  for  sensibilities,  associates  with  the  intestinal  functions.  It 
matters  not  whether  the  work  takes  place  in  a  city,  in  a  man,  in  an 
organ,  or  in  a  molecule.  Wherever  the  hungry  is  fed,  the  low 
raised  up,  the  prisoner  let  out,  the  erring  forgiven,  or  desert  ex- 
ceeded in  blessings,  there  Mercy  lives.*  But  these  works  are  every- 
where, in  every  assimilative  act  (p.  166),  and  hence,  wherever 
ground  extends,  there  are  processions  of  chyle-white  sisters  of  mercy, 
carrying  the  world  up  their  ladders,  and  passing  from  the  dust  to 
God.    Man  feels  the  influences  of  the  hierarchy  as  it  passes  through 

*  We  observed  before  (p.  182),  that  intellectual  heat  makes  human  heat;  and 
now  we  observe  that  mercy,  or  the  assimilation  of  the  low  to  the  high,  makes 
human  assimilation,  or  the  conversion  of  food  into  man's  blood.  The  latter  can 
go  on  apart  for  a  time,  even  for  generations,  but  not  for  the  long  run,  and  it  is  the 
long  run,  or  the  end,  that  contradistinguishes  man  from  the  beasts,  or  separates 
human  from  animal  assimilation. 


228  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

his  vitals ;  and  intellect  is  smelted  and  raised,  when  it  admits  the 
meaning  of  the  better  longings  which  its  own  experience  knows. 

Hence  a  reason  for  the  pleasure  connected  with  the  assimilative 
function.  For  it  is  a  law  that  pleasure  is  given  to  organism  accord- 
ing to  the  uses  performed,  and  especially  according  to  the  ulterior 
uses  associated  with  the  material  organs.  Thus  the  parts  whose 
functions  are  mercy-like,  have  bodily  pleasures  conferred  upon  them 
as  like  as  corporeal  feeling  can  be,  to  the  satisfaction  and  blessed- 
ness of  mercy.  Hence  we  do  right  to  thank  God  before  and  after 
meals  for  all  His  mercies.  The  organs,  however,  thus  furnished 
with  rivers  of  pleasure  from  this  source,  are  capable  of  abuse,  or 
stimulation  without  a  true  end.  For  if  pleasures  are  assigned  them 
for  mercy's  sake  or  for  just  purposes,  and  man  finds  the  pleasures 
out,  he  may  choose  to  enjoy  the  latter  apart  from  the  purposes;  as 
is  sufficiently  well  known  :  but  in  that  case  the  first  conditions  are 
absent,  and  the  pleasures  are  verging  to  retributions.  The  case  of 
the  generative  organs  is  parallel :  for  the  sake  of  the  heart's  love 
which  has  intercourse  with  them,  and  the  rich  end  that  they  carry, 
they  are  endowed  with  supreme  incentives  of  bodily  delights.  And 
in  general  every  part  is  gifted  with  these,  first  according  to  the  ne- 
cessity of  its  functions  in  the  body,  and  secondly  according  to  its 
privilege  of  representing,  or  being  similar  to,  functions  of  the  soul 
which  are  delightful  self-evidently,  or  in  the  order  and  justice  of 
God. 

The  body  itself  is  a  group  of  sensories.  As  the  eye  is  a  bodily 
sensorium  of  light,  and  has  intercourse  with  intelligence ;  and  as  the 
heart  is  a  bodily  sensorium  of  blood,  and  has  intercourse  with  the 
hearty  sentiments  felt  for  our  greater  blood,  which  is  human  kind ; 
and  as  the  bowels  are  a  sensory  of  our  wants  from  below,  and  of 
nature's  longings  to  be  raised  into  blood,  and  as  they  have  inter- 
course with  gracious  sensibilities — so  every  other  part  is  a  feeling  of 
its  own  objects;  and  if  we  knew  those  objects  in  common  sense, 
would  be  found  to  have  intercourse  with  some  principles  in  the  soul 
that  would  explain  its  pleasures,  and  give  the  veriest  motive  of  its 
functions.  The  liver,  for  example,  the  gruff  king  of  the  belly,  as 
the  stomach  is  the  queen,  is  the  seat  and  sensory  of  a  severer  pro- 
cess of  assimilation,  as  of  judgment  added  to   mercy,  or  justice  to 


THE  WHOLE  BODY  SENSORIAL.  229 

sensibility;  whence  the  passion  of  anger  in  extreme  cases  is  attrib- 
uted by  the  deep  vulgar  to  the  liver,  and  a  bilious  man  by  choice 
exercises  upon  his  society  critical  and  denunciatory  functions,  dis- 
turbing their  good  natures,  and  digesting  their  easy  admissions  with 
terrible  stringency  and  power.  The  words  of  such  a  prepared  in- 
strument are  gall  to  his  age.  These  are  metaphors,  because  the  body 
itself  is  a  metaphor — a  flesh  that  "  carries  with  it"  spirit,  because  of 
the  likeness  it  bears  to  the  spirit.  The  creation  is  the  body  and 
pressure  of  all  metaphors ;  and  seen  actions  are  done  because  they 
carry  out  the  unseeu  in  everlasting  resemblances.  Nature  is  a  force 
willed  from  the  first  to  sculpture  the  images  and  paint  the  portraits 
of  God's  attributes,  in  earth,  plant,  beast  and  bird,  nations  and 
peoples,  wherever  the  one  problem  works,  or  the  one  end  predomi- 
nates. The  sensorial  nature  of  the  body  during  emotions  leads  us 
experimentally  into  these  realms  of  metaphors;  for  we  feel  that  an- 
ger lies  in  bile,  and  that  bile  publishes  anger;  and  out  of  this  double 
marriage  we  cannot  but  infer  a  natural  intercourse,  illustrating  itself 
by  metaphors  of  language,  and  proceeding  from  a  real  ground  of 
similarity  or  correspondence. 

The  sensory  nature  of  the  body  is  plain,  from  the  fact  that  any 
part  may  be  the  seat  of  pain,  and  thus  become  an  object  of  con- 
sciousness. In  disease  we  have  an  indication  of  what  also  happens 
in  the  higher  stages  of  order  and  content.  This  sign  is  used  indeed 
by  the  sick  to  disprove  the  better  condition ;  those  laboring  under 
indigestion  long  for  the  intervals  in  which  they  do  not  know  that  they 
have  stomachs;  and  the  nervous,  in  like  manner,  wish  that  they  had 
no  nerves.  But  then,  on  the  other  hand,  the  pleasures  of  the  body 
are  as  much  facts  as  the  pains,  but  with  this  difference,  that  pain 
enthrals  the  body  to  self-considerations,  whereas  healthy  pleasure 
either  soothes  to  slumber,  or  else  excites  to  activities  and  a  keen 
relish  of  objects;  for  peace  and  joy  are  straight  aims  and  energetic 
powers. 

But  if  the  body  be  sensorial,  it  is  evidently  capable  of  a  liveliness 
of  which  at  present  we  have  no  instances.  For  if  the  presence  of 
objects  causes  so  vast  a  rousing  of  the  five  external  senses;  if  the 
eye  gladdened  by  the  light  of  day,  stands  so  prominently  forth,  and 
opens  our  little  halls  of  light  so  wide,  what  will  be  the  state  of  the 
20 


230  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

heart  when  it  has  its  objects,  as  the  eye  has  the  range  of  the  mighty 
universe  of  nature?  And  what  the  joy  of  the  assimilative  organs, 
when  the  communion  of  man  plays  upon  them,  as  the  warmth  of 
the  sun  upon  the  skin,  when  the  pleased  sense  opens  out  every 
wrinkle  of  inaction  into  which  the  cold  had  thrown  it  down  ?  And 
what  will  be  the  state  of  the  brain  when  it  lives  in  the  truth,  and 
opens  its  sentient  intellectual  urns  to  the  light  that  lighteth  every 
man  who  comes  into  the  world  ?  The  difference  between  that  state 
and  ours  will  be  at  least  equal  to  the  difference  between  waking  and 
sleep;  between  life  with  and  without  an  object;  between  the  vigor 
of  the  hero-angels,  and  the  drawl  of  history,  slimy  with  the  torpor 
of  our  own  hybernation  three  thousand  years  long.  Yet  great  as 
this  difference  is,  we  are  bound  to  believe  that  the  Christian  trains 
for  long  ages  have  been  crossing  its  deserts,  and  that  a  time  will 
come  when  the  pleasures  of  the  head  and  the  heart  will  be  as  sen- 
sible in  the  body  as  those  of  the  belly ;  and  when  in  consequence 
the  body  will  be  inwardly  alive  and  active  in  its  nervous  and  visceral 
depths,  more  than  now  in  its  limbs,  or  its  senses. 

We  have  further  to  note  that  the  fullness  of  life  depends  upon  just 
intercourse  between  the  steps  in  the  sensory  ladder.  Pleasure  or 
bodily  life  is  incomplete  while  its  materialism  only  is  felt,  and  the 
heart  untouched  by  the  traveling  joy,  which  as  it  comes  down  from 
on  high,  longs  to  strike  every  cord  where  its  music  can  be  made. 
But  if  the  heart  is  incontinent,  or  has  destroyed  its  delicious  sen- 
sorialness,  the  joy  is  spilt  from  it,  and  not  felt  excepting  in  the  lower 
regions.  First  love,  the  comedians  say,  is  " all-overishness;'7  the 
whole  body  feels  it;  the  house  is  lighted  and  the  lutes  are  playing 
from  attic  to  kitchen,  and  the  old  neighborhood  is  amazed.  Last 
love  is  often  another  thing;  life  in  holes  and  corners,  but  the  former 
halls  dark  and  cold.  So  also  the  pleasures  of  the  sensory  of  taste 
have  a  similar  wholeness  in  their  design.  Without  the  conviviality 
which  is  the  incentive  of  taste,  and  which  supplies  its  heart  touches, 
these  pleasures  are  poor  and  half  dead,  and  savors  themselves  are 
rinds  with  dust  inside  them.  For  as  we  said  before,  pleasure  is  given 
upon  conditions  and  for  purposes,  and  the  fullness  of  the  pleasures 
of  the  soul  are  the  objects  of  those  of  the  body.  But  the  soul  is  all 
over  the  body,  and  when  it  is  conciliated,  the  sensation  of  its  ap- 


THE  WHOLE  BODY  SENSORIAL.  231 

proval  is  as  it  were  the  whole  man,  a  choice  anatomy  of  senses  in  a 
body  of  delight. 

The  sensories  of  the  body  form  a  key-board  played  upon  by  nume- 
rous hands.  The  body  plays  upon  itself  through  their  means,  and 
parts  of  it  become  present  to  other  parts  according  to  the  variations 
of  the  correspondence.  If  the  womb,  in  catering  for  the  embryo, 
finds  the  existing  larder  insufficient,  its  want  is  present  that  moment 
to  the  tender-hearted  intestinal  tube,  which  uneasily  yearns  for  the 
food  that  the  nascent  nature  claims,  making  as  though  it  were  assi- 
milating it,  as  we  by  dumb-show  of  eating  at  our  mouths,  show  our 
hunger  to  those  who  do  not  understand  our  language.  This  sign- 
work  is  next  suggested  in  idea  to  the  mouth  and  palate,  which  set 
muscle  and  artifice  in  motion  to  procure  the  viands  that  the  blood  de- 
mands. Thus  the  hen,  in  correspondence  with  her  eggs,  picks  up 
their  shells  in  bits  of  lime  that  will  cement  and  protect  her  unborn 
brood.  In  fact  the  vitals  are  the  conductors  of  instincts  from  the 
depth  of  our  nature,  and  the  body  turns  first  to  them  for  whatever 
it  wants  from  their  respective  fields.  Each  part  is  applied  to  in  this 
manner  as  occasion  requires,  for  every  part  knows  the  rest,  and  relies 
upon  them.  For  want  of  knowing  that  the  body  is  sensorial,  in- 
stinct is  a  mystery;  whereas  instinct  is  the  sight,  voice  and  action 
of  faculties  as  broad  as  our  faces,  and  as  luminous  as  thought;  but 
these  faculties  happen  to  lie  under  our  skins,  and  in  our  entrails,  of 
which  they  are  the  wants,  the  knowledge,  and  the  ways.  The  com- 
munication of  each  want  from  its  starting  place,  through  the  course 
of  organisms  that  lead  it  to  its  objects,  takes  place,  as  we  have  said, 
by  no  other  means  than  correspondence ;  as  supply  and  demand  take 
place  in  human  affairs.  The  line  of  sympathy  thrills  and  trembles 
with  the  want,  which  becomes,  as  in  the  case  cited,  yearning  in  the 
bowels,  expectancy  in  the  mouth,  longing  in  the  person,  suggestion 
in  the  mind,  which  completes  the  circle  of  the  womb,  gives  the  want 
both  sight  and  voice,  and  then  the  will  is  stirred  to  pursue  and  grasp 
the  object.  And  by  the  line  that  the  want  ascended  as  a  protean 
instinct,  the  supply  descends,  putting  off  husk  after  husk  and  hard- 
ness after  hardness,  until  the  pure  milk  supplicated,  is  squeezed  into 
the  little  mouth  that  made  the  cry,  too  tender  for  the  mother  to  hear, 
excepting  by  the  ministration  and  enlarging  trumpet  tones  of  part 


232  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

after  part,  as  it  were  successive  choirs  of  faery-footed,  guardian 
organs. 

It  may  further  be  remarked,  that  all  substances  inside  the  body, 
propagate  their  state  as  interpreted  by  their  feel,  to  the  body  at  large. 
See  p.  136.  This  we  illustrated  in  that  place  by  certain  considera- 
tions touching  the  feel  of  oil  and  other  objects  in  the  mouth,  as 
affording  sensations  of  an  agreeable  kind,  apart  from  the  sense  of 
taste,  and  which  seem  to  be  a  kind  of  structural  taste  that  travels 
beyond  the  tongue,  and  soothes  the  frame  at  large.  The  action  of 
demulcents,  gums  and  mucilages,  and  of  cold  water,  are  in  part  of 
this  kind.  And  medicines  act  also  in  this  double  way,  propagating 
themselves,  and  working  out  their  specific  problems,  both  by  quality 
or  taste,  and  by  quantity  or  vibration.  If  this  be  true  of  inanimate 
substances,  a  fortiori  the  living  fluids  propagate  their  vibrations  in 
the  same  way;  the  organic  feel  of  what  goes  on  in  the  heart,  for 
example — the  groupings,  marriages  and  thrills  of  the  blood,  are  pro- 
pagated per  sensum  in  like  manner,  and  influence  the  general  state. 
Nay  more,  by  incessantly  jogging  the  body,  and  giving  it  these 
atomic  hints,  the  impassioned  blood-populations  insert  into  man  the 
beginnings  of  an  impulsion  that  comes  out  at  last  in  full  actions  of 
a  correspondent  order;  the  still  small  voices  whispering  year  after 
year,  grow  louder  as  the  audience  of  vibrating  organs  enlarges,  and 
ultimately  play  their  tunes  in  concert  with  the  whole  world  of  man. 
The  largest  wheels  begin  to  stir,  to  start,  to  move  slowly,  and  finally 
to  revolve,  after  the  least;  and  the  speed  increasing,  the  revolution 
is  swift  enough  in  time  to  make  one  drop  of  passion  into  a  great  ring 
of  fire,  as  consistent  as  our  fate.  The  "biting  of  the  maggot"  that 
sets  impulse  in  motion,  is  an  ugly  metaphor  for  these  words  of  com- 
mand that  issue  from  our  eager  blood.  A  fairer  saying  is,  that  "all 
men  have  their  hobbies,"  and  these  begin  in  little  toys  of  globules, 
or  blood-dolls,  which  the  heart  dandles,  dresses,  and  nurses,  intend- 
ing that  the  big  body  shall  one  day  do  the  same,  when  the  vibration 
has  grown  up,  and  can  be  the  mother  of  bodily  action.  The  pri- 
mordial affections  of  our  blood,  are  our  nature's  hobbies,  but  after 
they  become  disanimalized  or  humanized,  they  change  this  name, 
and  become  good  ends. 

External  nature  also  plays  upon  the  sensorial  body,  and  we  sym- 


THE  VISCERAL  SYMPATHIES.  233 

pathize  with  weather,  moons  and  tides,  because  our  vitals  feel  them 
as  our  skins  feel  the  objects  of  touch.  Hence  come  innumerable 
moods  that  vibrate  towards  the  will,  and  instigate  states  of  con- 
sciousness, and  corresponding  colors  in  our  trains  of  action.  The 
instincts  of  the  day  and  the  hour  are  so  many,  that  ever-shifting 
nature  only  can  produce,  and  Grod  alone  can  regulate  and  know 
them.  Sunshine  and  shade,  moist  and  dry,  the  east  wind  and 
Zephyrus,  thunder  and  frost,  and  the  influences  of  climate,  play 
upon  us  thus;  some  through  the  mind,  some  direct  through  the 
strings  of  the  vitals ;  and  hence  the  reactions  by  which  we  add  to 
nature,  give  a  new  beam  to  her  beams,  or  deepen  her  gloom  by  our 
brows.  Man  in  this  way  inhabits  his  circumstances  by  a  thousand- 
fold cunning  of  sensories  :  he  palpates  vapors,  winds,  magnetisms, 
and  climates,  with  fingers  finer  than  tact,  and  himself  is  a  divining- 
rod  which  points  to  everything,  whether  in  earth,  ocean,  or  air,  or 
in  the  inward  streams  that  build  the  crystals,  and  carry  the  mes- 
sages of  nature  between  her  poles. 

Man  acts  upon  man  by  the  same  way,  and  the  presence  of  persons 
is  felt  viscerally  even  before  intercourse  commences.  Thus  a  sym- 
pathy grows  up,  by  which  those  whom  we  meet,  act  upon  our  special 
organs.  Do  not  our  hearts  burn  within  us  when  some  men  look 
and  speak?  The  presence  of  others  again  is  choking  and  oppres- 
sive. The  piteous  and  sentimental,  if  we  be  not  too  steely,  act  upon 
our  intestine  tenderness,  and  call  it  into  yearnings.  The  unhappy 
give  us  indigestions,  and  the  mad  confuse  us,  and  tend  to  make  their 
keepers  mad.  We  do  not  often  perceive  these  influences  viscerally, 
unless  the  mind  be  excited  and  call  the  sensibilities  into  play.  But 
from  a  few  plain  cases  we  may  argue,  that  our  fellows,  according  to 
their  predominant  character,  affect  us  in  all  ways,  organically  as 
well  as  mentally,  by  their  vibrating  substance  and  stuff  as  well  as 
by  their  actions  and  words;  and  that  every  man  is  ranged  for  us  in 
a  peculiar  organic  classification.  The  brain-men  play  upon  our 
brains,  and  the  heart-men  on  our  hearts ;  the  men  of  pity  touch  our 
strings,  and  so  forth. 

The  influence  of  the  mind  upon  the  visceral  man  is  very  well 
known.  There  is  not  a  state  of  mind  however  produced,  but  the 
body  feels  it,  and  responds  to  it.      Our  conscious  pleasures,  or  pains, 

20* 


234  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

are  objects  of  touch  to  the  whole  of  the  viscera;  anxiety  exists  in 
the  mind  as  a  trouble  and  a  knot,  which  the  consistent  stomach 
makes  a  knot  in  itself  in  order  to  feel.  The  viscera  shape  them- 
selves upon  the  mental  models  that  they  may  sensate  the  mental 
states,  as  the  hand  makes  itself  into  a  cube  or  a  sphere,  to  feel  a 
cube  or  a  sphere.  Thus  the  body  is  a  set  of  sensories  constantly 
palpating  the  mind,  by  assuming  forms  which  answer  to  the  mental 
states.  It  feels  the  ghosts  of  thought  and  passion,  not  by  trying  to 
grasp  them,  but  by  making  itself  like  them,  and  thus  experiencing 
the  immaterial  by  representing  it  in  a  correspondent  form. 

Providence  also  uses  the  sensorialness  of  the  body  as  a  means  to 
guide  and  shape  our  lives.  For  much  arises  in  us  without  apparent 
cause ;  dictates,  suggestions,  feelings,  calm,  seeming  to  come  from 
afar,  and  influencing  us  in  important  respects.  Such  vibrations 
arise  from  within,  and  are  the  passions  of  passions  and  the  motions 
of  motions.  But  motions  in  the  organs,  however  produced,  become 
our  own,  whether  their  causes  are  internal  or  external  to  our  being. 
Within  our  being,  work  Providence  and  his  ministers,  and  fate,  in- 
stinct, and  succession  of  thought,  are  the  play  of  the  supreme 
agencies,  not  unaccountable  since  we  are  all  made  of  sensories,  which 
in  their  veriest  ground  are  in  contact  with  a  higher  life  than  our 
own.  The  harp  of  a  thousand  strings  is  a  good  metaphor  for  this 
human  frame  touched  into  melody  by  such  divers  hands,  and  espe- 
cially by  Him  named  of  David,  the  Chief  Musician.  And  as  the 
viscera  are  so  constructed  as  to  hear  for  us  the  whispers  of  the  wis- 
dom of  Providence,  it  is  not  surprising  that  their  feelings  also  are 
the  source  of  many  presentiments,  or  that  coming  events  cast  their 
shadows  before,  through  these  trembling  fleshly  groves;  for  the 
main  actors  in  life  are  already  beyond  time  and  history,  and  put 
their  fatal  forethought  into  the  piece,  which  then  speaks,  sometimes 
audibly,  of  the  future  as  present,  and  of  the  distant  as  here.  It 
was  therefore  by  a  remote  application,  that  the  augurs  consulted 
entrails  as  the  voices  of  the  gods,  and  interpreted  oracles  from  the 
sacrificial  quiverings.  For  the  intestine  parts  are  telegraphic  of 
what  is  and  was  and  shall  be,  as  it  were  wires  for  the  electricity  of 
ends,  which  runs  by  wisdom's  way,  from  the  future  to  the  present. 
These  deeply-buried  natures  are  even  as  the  Vala  awakened  by  Odin 


THE  VISCERAL  SYMPATHIES.  235 

for  responses  which  daylight  cannot  give,  and  the  opening  of  them 
as  sensories  introduces  us  to  magnetisms  and  communications  that 
the  five  senses  will  not  know.  The  unseen  world  of  the  body  of 
man  is  indeed  a  grave-land  of  innumerable  prophetesses,  each  to  be 
compelled  to  speak  when  the  powerful  enchanters  come. 

This  sensory  nature  of  the  viscera  is  the  complement,  and  the 
antecedent,  of  the  motory  nature  which  we  claimed  for  them  in  our 
Chapter  on  the  Lungs.  It  is  because  they  so  keenly  feel  their  ob- 
jects, that  they  breathe  them,  or  move  towards  them.  To  enable 
them  to  do  this,  the  respiration  itself  varies  as  the  objects  vary,  and 
the  parts  of  the  machine,  trebly  consistent,  move  all  together.  To 
promote  the  sensory  nature  to  a  still  larger  correspondence  with  ob- 
jects, the  muscular  system  is  given,  which  has  two  beginnings  of 
ends,  one  external,  by  which  it  produces  all  human  actions,  properly 
so  called;  and  one  internal,  by  which  it  engenders  all  human  visce- 
ral actions.  As  we  may  not  have  another  occasion  to  speak  of  the 
muscular  man,  we  shall  now  dwell  upon  him  briefly,  to  give  a  little 
more  completeness  to  our  views. 

The  human  body,  besides  containing  in  potency  all  organic  sensa- 
tions and  motions,  from  visceral  sensibility  to  intellectual  perception, 
has  moreover  a  will,  which  decides  upon  the  objects  to  be  sought, 
and  muscles  as  servants  of  the  will,  to  bring  up  the  motories  to  their 
fields  of  operation,  and  the  sensories  to  their  stations  of  feeling. 
Apart  from  the  will,  action  is  molecular,  and  feeling,  like  a  dream. 
But  under  the  force  of  the  will  and  muscles,  the  smallest  impulses 
(p.  232)  become  translated  into  personal  actions,  and  the  minutest 
senses  lead  to  gratifications  of  which  the  whole  man  is  the  sensorium. 
For  the  will  is  our  sovereign  pleasure  with  a  soul  added  to  it,  and 
in  the  muscles  it  forms  our  own  motions,  in  contradistinction  to 
the  motions  of  our  blood  and  fluids.  It  is  our  continued  human 
life,  and  each  volition  is  a  tick  of  our  proper  clock,  without  which 
we  are  not  "  going."  We  may  call  it  the  organ  of  progress,  as  the 
muscles  are  the  organs  of  locomotion  or  bodily  progress.  It  takes 
up  the  helpless  viscera  in  its  arms,  and  runs  with  them  where  it 
chooses,  or  where  they  choose,  setting  them  in  pleasant  places  which 
they  could  not  have  reached  without  a  strong  will  equally  supported 
by  numerous  muscular  servants. 


236  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

The  viscera  are  meant  in  the  nature  of  things  for  the  will  and  the 
muscles ;  they  are  meant  to  be  present  and  serviceable  for  every 
action  that  man  performs ;  and  vice  versa,  all  action  is  meant  to  act 
upon  them  and  to  modify  them.  By  means  of  the  muscles  they  are 
girded  into  one  body ;  each  has  the  benefit  of  pressure  from  without, 
and  is  forced  to  do  its  work  in  an  exact  space,  or  what  is  the  same 
thing,  to  refine  nature  into  skill ;  and  all  are  set  upright,  or  have 
their  own  portion  of  man's  erectness  or  heaven-sightedness  conferred 
upon  them.  Thus  the  liver,  the  spleen,  the  stomach  become  paral- 
lel with  the  eyes  and  hands,  and  action  runs  consistently  from  the 
soul  through  the  skin,  as  well  as  from  the  will  through  the  fingers. 
By  means  of  the  muscles  also  they  receive  the  powers  of  the  voli- 
tions :  industry  and  skill  are  stricken  into  their  phlegmatic  tempers, 
and  they  are  forced  to  take  part  in  deeds,  and  to  make  blood  and 
humors,  not  for  molecular  domestic  circulation,  but  for  human  aims. 
The  stomach,  thrashed  by  the  rods  of  the  voluntary  fibres  of  the 
abdomen,  is  allowed  to  make  no  sleepy  chyle,  but  a  quick  and  stir- 
ring milk  of  support,  worthy  to  feed  a  workman's  blood.  And  the 
liver,  under  the  same  task-masters,  is  not  permitted  to  make  soapy 
infantine  bile,  but  sharp  decisive  stuff,  ready  in  a  moment  to  cut  the 
maudlin  of  the  animal  secretions.  By  means  of  the  muscles  also  the 
viscera  have  the  benefit  of  locomotion  and  change  of  air;  the  will, 
and  these  his  servants,  are  the  carriage  that  takes  the  liver  and  its 
companions  from  London  to  Paris,  or  where  we  please ;  the  muscles 
also  walk  them  out,  and  give  them  exercise,  which  they  require  just 
as  much  as  ourselves.  The  muscular  system  furthermore  lends  hard- 
ness to  the  tender  viscera,  and  contains  and  corrects  their  sensibili- 
ties, just  as  the  will  makes  the  mind  firm  :  thus  it  enables  the  vitals, 
poor  jellies  without  it,  to  bear  what  is  to  be  borne,  and  do  what  must 
be  done.  Where  this  strength  is  not  given,  liver  and  bowels  are  as 
it  were  out-lying  in  the  world,  exaggerated  in  size,  shrinking  from 
healthy  sounds  and  vigorous  contacts,  and  trodden  under  foot  of  cir- 
cumstances that  are  the  playmates  of  the  body  in  its  well-braced 
powers.  In  short  the  viscera  are  created  to  receive  and  appropriate 
the  actions  of  our  muscles,  and  to  be  humanized  (p.  40),  or  lose  their 
laziness  and  animality,  by  this  among  other  means.  It  is  a  fact  that 
they  do  receive  these  actions,  and  being  a  necessity  also,  we  state  it 


THE  MUSCULAR  MAN.  237 

as  a  law.  We  therefore  look  upon  muscularity  and  volition  as  just 
as  much  a  part  of  the  liver,  as  though  the  liver  was  itself  muscular, 
which  it  is  not,  for  in  an  indissoluble  society,  all  things  exist  for 
each.  And  we  notice  that  human  inaction  robs  every  viscus  of  its 
endowments,  or  leaves  it  forlorn  among  animal  sensibilities  and  mo- 
lecular movements.  Under  these  circumstances  the  man  and  the 
viscera  are  all  doing  nothing;  true,  they  breathe,  but  this  is  nothing 
for  waking  man ;  industry  and  skill,  in  the  liver  as  in  the  person, 
begin  the  human  reckoning. 

The  muscular  system,  therefore,  as  the  organ  of  the  progress  of 
the  rest  of  the  body,  carries  the  body  into  action,  and  by  its  back- 
stroke carries  action  into  the  body,  making  us  like  ourselves  in  our 
tiniest  humors,  as  well  as  in  our  works.  Could  we  see  a  globule  of 
our  blood  with  a  fine-enough  eye  for  character,  we  should  find  that 
it  was  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  because  it  has  been  under  the  dominion 
of  our  will  since  it  was  born ;  aye,  and  inherited  our  will  in  its  con- 
ception. The  muscles  themselves  however  are  a  sensory,  or  they 
could  not  have  a  human  motory  life.  They  are  the  seat  of  the  sense 
of  power  ;  the  verb  lean,  added  to  good  pleasure,  or  the  verb,  I  will. 
The  power  is  possessed  of  an  instinctive  sense  of  the  compass  of  power, 
by  which  the  muscles  know  what  they  can  do,  according  to  the  dose 
of  will  that  they  receive.  This  sense  is  a  meter  of  the  will  on  the 
one  hand,  and  a  meter  of  the  commanded  action  on  the  other :  if  a 
leap  is  prescribed,  the  muscular  man  feels  exactly  whether  he  is 
wilful  enough  to  attempt  it,  and  powerful  enough  to  carry  it  through. 
It  is  from  this  sense  of  power  that  our  bodies  become  responsible 
agents,  and  flesh,  a  moral  humanity;  therefore  we  justly  punish 
human  bodies  for  the  sins  of  human  souls;  for  by  sense  bodies  be- 
come souls  whilst  they  are  awake  and  here.  The  way  in  which  we 
manage  our  muscles  is  by  ideal  actions  shown  to  this  sense  of  power; 
the  plan  of  the  action  is  held  up  to  the  moving  army  of  the  flesh, 
and  with  it  a  command  is  given  to  execute  the  action,  if  it  be  easy 
or  known ;  whereas  the  cautious  mind  puts  in  the  query,  Is  it  pos- 
sible ?  if  the  action  be  serious,  or  untried.  The  ideas  thus  exhibited 
are  wonderful  things ;  they  are  not  only  surface-pictures  of  the  thing 
done,  or  of  the  arm  at  the  end  of  the  task,  but  organisms  anatomi- 
cally full  of  the  means  that  lead  to  the  end;  mental  skins  hard  with 


238  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

mental  muscles  or  volitions  upon  the  model,  or  rather  in  the  arche- 
type, of  the  whole  muscular  frame.  This  is  of  a  piece  with  that 
common  sense,  that  he  who  wills  the  end,  wills  the  means;  or  phy- 
siologically speaking,  when  we  will  an  action,  the  structural  will, 
through  the  sense  of  power  or  muscular  soul,  wills  every  muscle  and 
every  fibre  to  take  its  part  in  the  action,  because  the  structural  will 
is  the  muscle  of  muscle  and  the  limb  of  limb.  A  serious  view  of 
these  ends,  as  every  one  of  them  a  human  body !  and  yet  no  new 
view,  but  only  a  fresh  mention  of  "  the  inner  man."  In  short,  the 
will  stretches  forth  the  arm  because  it  is  the  arm  of  the  arm,  and  the 
inner  man  commands  the  outer,  because  he  is  the  man  of  the  man. 
In  proportion  to  the  number  of  ends,  ideas  of  action  or  senses  of 
power,  that  are  in  the  muscular  faith  and  memory,  is  the  quick 
vitality  or  presence  of  mind  with  which  we  move  and  work  in  the 
world  :  the  weights  that  we  lift  and  the  tunnels  that  we  bore  ;  the 
forlorn  hopes  that  we  lead  and  outlive;  the  number  of  evils  and 
errors  slain  that  we  count  after  the  battle ;  the  list  of  impossibilities 
flouted ;  is  not  according  to  the  thickness  or  thinness  of  our  arms, 
but  is  measured  by  the  will  first,  and  secondly  by  the  sense  of  power 
which  is  its  servant  in  the  muscular  array.  Will  knows  nothing  of 
the  present  arm,  but  it  extemporizes  muscle,  building  it  upon  its  own 
mould,  for  as  we  said  before,  it  is  essential  muscle.  Furthermore, 
it  does  not  wait  for  this,  but  it  makes  smallness  do  the  work  of 
largeness — a  feat  at  which  all  life  aims.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
loss  of  these  ends  or  senses  of  power  is  paralysis  of  the  will  and 
muscles,  after  which  the  flesh  becomes  so.  brittle  that  the  consistent 
intellect  sometimes  is  impressed  to  dictate,  that  the  sufferer  is  made 
of  glass,  and  will  break  if  he  is  moved ;  for  when  ends  become  mere 
pictures  without  touchingness,  nothing  can  stir  the  muscles  without 
hurting  them.  These  muscular  senses  then  are  the  proper  powers 
of  man,  or  the  genii  of  action ;  the  maids  in  golden  helms  that 
attend  us  in  the  field,  and  bear  us  harmless  through  the  hurtling 
showers. 

The  contents  of  the  marvelous  ideas  which  thus  use  our  muscles 
and  shape  our  purposes,  lead  us  to  another  consideration  respecting 
the  external  world ;  for  these  ideas  take  the  world  for  granted,  and 
assume  its  concurrence.     It  is  not  fair  to  argue,  that  as  they  govern 


THE  SENSE  OF  POWER.  239 

the  body,  so  they  are  designed  to  govern  the  world ;  and  that  loco- 
motion, for  example,  as  an  end,  knows  no  end  but  the  utmost  velo- 
city of  nature ;  in  other  words,  that  the  little  world  of  man  is  the 
will  of  which  the  great  world  of  nature  is  the  muscles.  In  this 
way,  when  the  child  says,  "  I  want  to  go  to  that  hill  top,"  he 
expresses  an  end  of  which  railroads  are  but  proximate  means ;  an 
end  which  is  successively  to  enter  upon  horseflesh,  steam,  mag- 
netism, and  whatever  other  ways  there  are ;  an  end  which  is  not  a 
picture  only,  but  a  spiritual  world  working  upon  this  kosmos,  and 
claiming  it  as  a  highroad  and  avenue  of  man.  By  this  rule,  every 
art  is  as  possible  as  every  muscular  action,  and  the  goodness  and 
power  of  human  wishes  are  the  only  limit  of  the  obsequiousness  of 
nature.  The  grander  ends  of  a  single  head  have  light  and  magnet- 
ism for  their  muscles,  and  the  stars  fight  for  them  in  their  courses. 
For  observe,  it  is  not  necessary  to  know  the  order  of  things  in  order 
to  govern  or  produce  them;  the  conscious  will  in  commanding  a 
dance  has  no  knowledge  of  the  muscles  of  the  limbs,  or  of  the  fibres 
in  the  muscles ;  yet  it  stirs  them  accurately,  because  the  end  that  it 
proposes,  contains  the  means,  or  is  anatomical  by  nature.  And 
again  observe  that  the  size  of  the  agent  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
power,  for  a  little  nerve  puts  a  large  muscle  in  motion,  and  the  will 
is  of  no  size,  relatively  to  the  mortal  body.  In  spiritual  leverage, 
every  good  action  attests  the  Archimedean  power,*  and  standing  on 
the  higher  world,  actually  moves  the  lower.  For  the  laws  of  nature, 
are  the  laws  of  the  inner  man ;  as  witness  Jesus  Christ,  whose  dis- 
ciples said,  "  What  manner  of  man  is  this  that  the  winds  and  the 
waves  obey  him  ?" 

We  cannot  quit  the  muscular  system  without  noticing  also  that 
the  heart  itself  is  a  muscle,  and  that  the  powers  of  formation  in  the 
viscera,  depend  upon  it  (p.  98).  All  muscular  action  also  depends 
for  its  continuance  upon  the  supply  of  arterial  blood.  And  as  the 
heart  is  pervaded  by  the  feelings,  and  the  muscles  are  governed  by 
the  same  feelings  under  their  decisive  name  of  wills,  the  correspond- 
ence between  the  two  is  regular  and  exact.  The  firmness  that 
plants  its  steel  in  the  heart,  has  already  given  iron  to  the  muscles; 

*  Archimedes  used  to  say,  that  given  a  place  to  stand  on  (Jos  7rov  <na>),  he 
could  move  the  world  by  his  mechanism. 


240  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

and  a  sfcreani  of  blood  magnetized  by  the  unbending  life,  runs  as  a 
bridge  between  the  two,  over  which  the  spirit-soldiers  pass  and 
repass.  The  sympathies  founded  upon  this  correspondence  or 
human  magnetism,  are  of  all  force  in  man.  We  have  already  noted 
how  the  muscular  system  is  set  in  action  by  sympathy  with  its 
higher  parts  (p.  117);  how  the  muscles  of  that  high  round  limb, 
the  eye,  which  rolls  upon  the  beams  of  light,  command  actions  in 
the  muscles  of  the  trunk  and  legs.  Similarly,  the  instinctive  mus- 
cular actions  tend  to  be  produced  by  the  special  movements  of  the 
heart.  In  this  respect  the  whole  of  the  muscular  battalions,  pro- 
ceeding downwards  in  ranks  from  the  eye  muscles  on  the  one  hand, 
and  outwards  in  fraternities  from  the  heart  muscle  on  the  other, 
may  be  likened  to  the  ends  of  both  series,  or  the  five  fingers,  which 
are  so  coordinated  in  action,  that  if  one,  and  especially  the  middle 
finger  be  bent,  the  others  instinctively  bend  with  it,  and  training  is 
needed  to  isolate  the  action  of  any  one  of  the  fingers.  This  is  the 
motor  half  of  that  propagation  of  events  from  the  heart,  of  which 
we  treated  in  the  foregoing  pages,  where  the  sensory  part  of  the 
question  was  stated  (p.  232). 

We  may  now  attempt  a  slight  recapitulation  of  the  psychology, 
as  it  runs  parallel  with  the  bodily  parts.  In  the  brain  and  nervous 
system  we  have  found  the  mental  and  moral  consciousness  embodied; 
a  consciousness  of  the  whole  of  what  goes  on  in  the  other  and  lower 
spheres,  and  added  to  this  a  sense  of  mind,  or  reason  and  will  in  all 
their  forms,  which  through  this  sense  strike  their  attributes  into  the 
body.  The  sense  of  mind,  and  the  motion,  is  therefore  the  huma- 
nity or  peculiarity  of  the  cerebral  spheres.  Below  this  we  find  the 
body,  which  in  the  complex  is  the  sense  of  feeling,  or  of  mind,  not 
acting,  but  acted  upon.  In  the  heart  we  have  the  natural  feelings 
which  connect  us  with  other  hearts;  the  central  relations  of  man 
present  by  a  sense  in  the  central  parts  of  the  body  of  man.  It  is 
the  sense  of  human  love  which  is  here  perceived.  In  the  lungs  we 
have  the  sense  of  thought,  whereby  we  feel  bodily  the  fluctuations 
and  shapings  of  our  minds.  Below  the  heart  again,  we  have  ano- 
ther but  more  general  firmament  of  feeling,  which  lives  in  the  bowels, 
and  is  termed  sensibility,  or  by  a  privileged  name,  the  sense  of  mercy. 
This  forms  a  compacter  power  in  the  liver  and  chylopoietic  glands, 


THE  INCARNATE  PSYCHOLOGY.  241 

the  spleen  being  the  reverse  of  the  liver,  and  testing  the  blood  by 
laxity  and  banter,  as  it  were  by  giving  it  its  own  way,  and  reductio 
ad  absurdum;  as  the  liver  by  bilious  ferment  and  sharp  examina- 
tion. "  Splen  ridere  facit,  cogit  amare  hepar."  Then  the  skin  and 
external  sensories  are  the  abodes  of  the  proper  senses,  which  be- 
sides entertaining  their  own  objects,  are  liable  to  become  the  fields 
of  the  other  visceral  and  mental  powers;  for  not  only  does  the  skin 
feel  the  objects  of  touch,  but  it  feels  the  touch  of  the  passions,  and 
is  a  sensory  of  their  bloods :  and  not  only  does  the  eye  see  outward 
objects,  but  it  is  also  liable  when  opened  to  the  second  degree,  to 
see  mental  and  spiritual  objects,  projected  through  its  tubes.  These 
externals  give  the  sense  of  self.  Again,  between  the  inside  and  out- 
side, or  between  the  mind  and  the  senses,  lies  the  sense  of  power 
and  the  organ  of  progress  in  the  muscles,  with  the  bones,  or  the 
sense  of  stability  in  progress,  as  their  fulcrum  and  necessary  comple- 
ment. Thus  man  is  not  only  sense  but  motion  $  motion  in  sense, 
and  sense  in  motion,  applied  to  every  object  in  existence. 

The  body  is  simplicity  itself  when  looked  at  in  this  living  light. 
And  now  we  recognize  that  the  divine  attributes,  and  not  man's 
faculties,  are  the  key  of  the  human  frame.  The  simple  truth  of 
God  is  the  kingdom  which  has  to  come  into  the  science  of  that 
structure,  which  is  meant  in  God's  image.  Only  by  this  means  do 
the  last  terms  that  we  use,  become  reliable.  In  man  we  talk  of 
sensibility,  but  with  no  surety,  of  mercy.  In  man  we  find  feelings, 
lusts,  or  loves,  but  not  love  itself.  In  man  we  speak  of  various 
powers,  but  not  of  power  itself.  In  man  we  have  many  senses,  but 
no  omnipresent  sense ;  many  faculties  wise  in  their  generation  and 
kind,  but  not  wisdom  in  the  full.  Did  we  confine  reasons  to  present 
human  nature,  we  should  find  our  ideals  terminated  far  below  reason's 
wants,  in  a  mythological  maze ;  good  and  evil  demons  would  inhabit 
our  fountains,  and  whisper  in  our  groves ;  we  should  build  a  Babel 
of  mesmeric  oracles,  each  violent  against  the  other,  and  stand  comic- 
ally aghast  at  our  own  shadows  seen  in  the  ink-pools  of  our  palms. 
God  is  the  intelligible  being  in  these  higher  sciences,  and  common 
senses;  man  is  in  such  snaky  knots,  his  heart  is  so  deceitful  and 
desperately  wicked,  that  there  is  neither  scientific  nor  other  depend- 
ence to  be  placed  on  it.  To  reason  from  it,  would  introduce  all 
21 


242  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

ungodliness  and  unreason  by  rote  and  rule  into  the  sciences.  And 
a  fuddle  of  fetischism  would  then  arise,  compared  to  which  the  pre- 
sent materialism,  happily  dead  as  it  is,  would  be  but  a  slight  evil. 
From  this  we  are  saved  by  Revelation,  which  gives  the  loadstars  of 
every  science;  not  indeed  bestowing  knowledge,  but  opening  our 
eyes  and  speeding  our  aims  to  the  ends  of  knowledge — wisdom,  love, 
mercy,  life,  power,  the  Word,  which  are  with  God,  and  which  are 
God. 

Thus  much  of  the  visceral  psychology,  which  as  it  proceeds  upon 
sensation  or  experience,  and  the  sensation  is  but  faint  and  glimmer- 
ing as  yet,  must  needs  be  of  feeble  growth.  Yet  we  have  made 
a  beginning,  because  the  body  of  the  mind  must  be  added  to  the 
head  of  the  mind,*  and  the  arms  and  legs  to  the  body,  in  order  that 
the  mind  may  be  as  good  as  the  body  in  its  own  sphere,  and  that 
materialism  may  receive  the  full  tilt  of  a  personality  as  weighty  as 
its  own.  Our  views  aim  ultimately  at  a  piece  for  piece  proof  that 
the  soul  is  the  man,  and  in  the  human  form.  For  if  the  soul-doc- 
trine has  two  auricles  and  two  ventricles,  and  a  heart ;  if  it  has 
stomach,  guts  and  liver ;  if  it  has  limbs,  and  if  it  has  any  brains, 
then  it  is  in  manly  guise,  like  ourselves.  And  if  the  soul  be  the 
true  body,  and  the  only  thing  material  to  us,  then  it  is  no  estranged 
essence,  but  a  person  with  whom  we  can  have  affairs,  and  keep  in- 
telligible relations.  Of  how  great  moment  this  is  in  society,  moral 
life,  and  religion,  we  leave  others  to  say :  being  ourselves  but  a 
backwoodsman  eager  to  clear  away  swamps  and  forests,  and  to  open 
sane  ground  upon  which  far  other  workmen  than  we  can  base  the 
truth,  and  carry  up  the  spires  of  the  pious  in  the  impregnable  cities 
of  the  just. 

We  now  recur  to  our  canon  (p.  225),  to  illustrate  the  ground  of 
organization,  and  its  connection  with  life.  And  we  say,  that  given 
an  organic  structure  that  will  lift  the  juices  of  fruit  and  flesh  to- 
wards human  blood,  choosing  what  is  best  in  the  world  of  food,  and 
making  it  better  by  new  shapes  and  constant  reformations — then 
sensibility,  or  in  the  full  sense,  mercy,  will  and  can  associate  with 

*  The  present  philosophies  are  decapitations,  and  their  doctrine  of  immor- 
tality reminds  us  of  Danton's  consolation  to  his  companion  on  the  scaffold, 
"  Our  heads  will  meet  in  that  sack." 


THE  LINKING  OF  ORGANS  TO  LIFE.  243 

this  material  sister,  increase  her  tenderness,  and  make  her  alive. 
Thus  given  the  bowels  of  man,  and  the  sensibilities  are  in  them. 
Again,  given  a  structure  that  will  censure  the  former  process,  and 
elect  or  reject  the  elements  admitted  by  a  firm  afterthought  and 
severer  examination — then  judgment,  or  just  and  executive  anger 
will  and  can  cohabit  with  this  material  judge;  in  other  words,  the 
bilious  liver  will  have  this  vital  passion  with  it  by  the  necessity  of 
the  case.  Again,  given  a  structure  that  receives  the  races  of  our 
blood  with  open  attractions,  blends  them  into  groups,*  unites  them 
in  new  bonds,  spaces  their  infinitesimal  lifetimes,  and  in  their  great 
aortic  emigration  pours  them  forth  to  make  of  one  blood  all  the 
families  of  the  body— then  every  sentiment  of  human  nature  will 
and  can  associate  with  this  royal,  generous  and  grand  materialist  j 
thus,  given  the  heart,  and  love,  life,  will  and  affection  must  clasp 

*  la  the  foregoing  pages  we  designated  the  chambers  of  the  heart  by  new 
names,  as  "  the  family  auricle,"  "  the  patriotic  heart,"  &c. ;  for  living  terms  are 
the  proper  expressions  for  the  parts  and  functions  of  living  bodies.  Such  terms 
must  be  borrowed  by  analogy  from  life.  Already  some  anatomical  terms  are 
founded  upon  analogy.  The  word  auricle,  signifying  "the  little  ear,"  is  an. 
analogy  from  the  likeness  of  the  part  to  the  external  ear.  The  ventricle  means 
"the  little  belly."  Such  nomenclature  is  a  precedent  in  favor  of  the  use  of 
analogies  ;  and  the  roots  of  language,  by  which  it  assimilates  things  to  thoughts, 
are  analogical.  But  the  analogies  hitherto  made  use  of  in  the  body,  proceed 
from  the  low  to  the  high,  or  from  the  outside  to  the  inside,  and  require  to  be 
corrected,  and  set  upon  their  feet,  by  the  addition  of  terms  taken  from  intelligi- 
ble affairs.  Moreover,  the  dead  languages  have  ruled  our  nomenclature  in  this 
country.  But  if  truths  be  living,  to  call  them  dead  names  is  unscientific.  So 
long  as  this  is  done,  universal  instruction  is  impossible ;  the  democracy,  whose 
education  is  so  vital  to  modern  states,  cannot  sympathize  with  unknown  tongues, 
or  with  sciences  scaly  with  crusts  of  Latin  and  Greek.  The  body  must  be 
written  out  in  downright  English,  before  the  horny  hands  can  feel  its  beautiful 
weight.  We  inveigh  against  Popery,  for  celebrating  masses  in  Latin  services, 
and  perhaps  think  it  a  mark  of  a  dead  church  that  it  enshrouds  its  voice  in  the 
word-garments  of  deceased  nations.  Alas,  in  this  respect  we  are  Papists  to*  the 
very  ground.  We  put  the  scientific  truths  of  God  in  these  old  clothes,  as  our 
brothers,  the  Roman  Catholics,  the  religious  truths.  Though  we  are  unlike 
them,  in  that  our  science  has  no  fine  music  in  it,  no  art  or  beauty,  to  touch  the 
heart  when  common  sense  is  away,  and  by  a  certain  warmth  of  feeling  to  com- 
pensate for  the  misfortune  of  intellectual  rags.  But  providential  time,  which 
has  buried  the  old  nations,  will,  we  foresee,  exorcise  their  ghosts,  and  free  the 
sciences  from  that  spectrum  of  dead  languages  by  which  they  scare  the  vulgar, 
who,  we  must  remember,  are  not  always  to  be  vulgar,  but  are  the  sons  of  God 
in  potency,  like  the  kings  and  queens. 


244  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

it  in  their  arms.  Again,  given  a  structure  that  admits  nothing  but 
the  first  and  last  essences  of  every  nature  ;  that  knows  not  of  the 
vine  but  through  the  grape,  or  of  the  grape  but  through  the  vine ; 
that  balances  masses  of  earth  by  an  imponderable  weight;  that 
expresses  tiny  illustrations  of  light  from  continents  of  matter,  and 
maintains  bodily  heat  by  a  solar  glow  that  costs  no  fuel ;  that  is 
in  the  parallelism  of  the  miracles  of  the  universe,  and  related  to 
the  farthest  stars ;  that  is  naturally  autocratic  in  the  body,  and  pos- 
sessed of  forces  that  blood  and  humors  dare  not  disobey — given 
such  a  structure,  and  in  its  own  interest  it  will  cease  to  itself  and 
live  to  the  mind;  in  other  words,  given  the  brain,  and  the  presence 
of  the  mind  in  the  brain,  is,  and  is  to  be.  Again,  given  the  mind 
with  its  better  faculties,  which  live  with  other  minds,  and  the 
Divine  Spirit  is  with  it;  as  He  himself  said:  "  Where  two  or  three 
are  gathered  together  in  my  name,  there  am  I  in  the  midst  of 
them  :"  observe — not,  there  "  I  will  be/'  but  there  "  I  am."  So 
again :  given  a  structure  disparted  into  limbs  to  insure  material 
motions,  or  the  operancy  and  progress  of  the  human  body ;  and 
brains  and  volitions,  which  are  the  loves  of  work  and  progress,  will  at 
once  order  it  into  play  :  whence  the  muscles  being  gathered  together 
in  the  name  of  the  will,  have  the  will  in  the  midst  of  them.  Lastly, 
given  a  structure,  as  the  human  body,  designed  for  harmony,  for 
contiguity  of  parts,  for  opening  to  enlarge  its  harmonies,  for  closing 
to  keep  them  secure — then  pleasure  and  pain,  or  ordinary  sense  will 
live  upon  its  self-defending  plains.  So  much  at  present  in  explanation 
of  our  canon,  w7hich  is  this — that  wherever  in  the  body  any  organ  does 
anything  that  is  like  the  mind  or  the  mind's  doings,  there,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  likeness,  and  according  thereto,  the  mind,  and  its  special 
deeds  are  present.  But  in  the  human  body  everything  done  is  like 
the  mind,  nay,  like  wisdom  working ;  wherefore  the  whole  of  it  has 
the  mind  or  the  man  present  to  it.     Q.  E.  D. 

We  began  with  the  heart,  and  to  the  heart  we  circulate  back  after 
this  long  episode,  to  complete  the  present  chapter.  And  first  we 
would  say  a  few  words  upon  the  different  signification  of  heart  and 
lungs,  or  pulsation  and  respiration.  The  difference  here  is,  that  the 
lungs  ponder  and  weigh  the  existing  state,  and  slowly  commit  it  to 


THE  LINKING  OF  ORGANS  TO  LIFE.  245 

the  body,  or  breathe  it  in  by  measured  stages  (pp.  108 — 126); 
whereas  the  heart  domineers,  beats  with  quick  impatient  messages 
at  the  doors  of  every  organ,  and  terminates  its  problems  by  the  im- 
mediacy and  hot  pressure  of  its  blood.  The  lungs  are  the  motives 
which  draw  us  from  without,  but  the  heart  is  the  force  that  actuates 
us  from  within ;  or  in  other  words  the  lungs  are  the  sense  of  under- 
standing (p.  130),  but  the  heart  is  the  sense  of  will.  Translating 
the  organs  into  these  known  figures,  and  abolishing  the  algebraic  x 
y  z  of  matter  and  physics,  it  is  easy  to  see  the  reason  of  the  diverse 
rhythm  between  the  heart  and  the  lungs.  If  the  breath  could  coin- 
cide with  the  pulse,  the  body  would  act  out  every  purpose  of  the  heart, 
without  individuality,  pondering  or  consideration  on  its  own  part ; 
the  man  would  be  shot  to  his  ends  with  faster  than  tiger  pants;  his 
eyes  would  gleam  and  glitter  in  the  darkness  of  his  faculties;  he 
would  become  like  the  vision  of  the  bloody  child  which  rose  from 
the  cauldron  before  Macbeth,  and  would  enter  into  the  golden  age 
of  hell,  and  speedily  into  that  terrible  foetal  state  which  is  called  the 
second  death.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  pulse  coincided  with  the 
breath,  caution  and  the  slowest  life  would  become  the  standards  of 
the  movements  of  the  inner  will ;  the  candles  of  life  would  be  made 
of  ice,  and  burn  frore ;  slugs  of  blood  would  crawl  up  and  down  in 
our  veins ;  we  should  learn  to  walk  by  the  science  of  anatomy,  de- 
monstrate the  existence  of  God  by  mathematics,  postpone  making 
love  until  the  knowledge  of  magnetism  was  complete;  and  in  short 
be  as  hoary  as  Stonehenge  before  our  first  down  had  grown.  To 
guard  against  this  preponderance  of  either  heart  or  lungs,  will  or 
understanding,  the  movements  of  either  are  different,  limited,  and 
inviolable ;  the  heart  strokes  play  one  tune,  and  the  breathing  lungs 
another ;  the  tough  pericardium  isolates  the  heart  from  the  pulmo- 
nary engine,  and  on  the  other  hand  the  pulse  is  broken  by  the  angles 
of  the  vessels  where  they  enter  the  organs :  thus  the  heart  closes  its 
circle,  and  lays  down  its  sceptre,  at  the  cool  feet  of  the  lungs ;  and 
the  lungs  terminate  their  deliberations  at  the  outside  of  the  fiery 
palace  of  the  heart.  For  will  is  meant  to  rush  through  us  in  its  own 
way,  to  give  life  and  zeal,  but  slow  understanding  is  to  limit  the 
will,  to  adopt  the  part  of  it  which  consideration  approves,  and  to  let 
the  rest  go  elsewhere,  or  back  to  the  will,  with  the  intelligence  that 

21* 


246  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

if  has  not  been  received.  And  however  harmonious  the  two  become, 
still  will  is  wilful  and  understanding  deliberative,  or  to  speak  by 
nature's  algebra,  the  heart  still  strikes  or  pulses,  and  the  lungs  still 
breathe,  because  their  difference  is  safety  and  friendship  for  both. 
Thus  we  may  say  politically,  that  the  white  monarchy  of  the  brain 
through  the  lungs  is  founded  for  ever  upon  the  red  republic  of  the 
heart. 

Hitherto  we  have  treated  of  the  heart  from  the  analogies  of  the 
individual  feelings,  but  it  is  plain  that  nothing  less  than  a  human 
race  is  the  prophecy  of  the  blood.  For  in  every  two  beats,  less  than 
two  of  our  seconds,  the  heart  runs  through  an  entire  life,  and  con- 
structs relations  that  deployed  in  a  line  are  seventy  years  long.  It 
marries  and  has  children  in  setting  one  foot  down ;  it  binds  all  into 
intimacy,  and  establishes  the  state  as  the  other  is  put  forward.  The 
broad  sheets  of  Society  write  out  but  a  fraction  of  the  momentary 
news  of  a  single  heart.  Of  all  the  human  lives,  the  hearts  are  the 
least  in  duration  and  the  greatest  in  intensity;  the  smallest  answer- 
ing to  the  largest  sphere.  The  social  man  here  is  a  mote  and  an 
ephemeris,  most  wonderful  of  all,  since  a  click  of  time  and  a  grain 
of  space  contain  him  full-limbed  and  perfect-lived.  The  heart  then 
may  justly  be  termed  human  nature,  which  is  true  to  itself  in  its 
smallest  parts :  and  it  stands  in  the  grove  among  the  beginnings  of 
things,  in  the  place  where  the  stem  of  the  world-tree  grows  fine 
towards  God.  The  nature  of  all  things  is  their  very  heart.  This 
it  is  that  comes  into  the  world  a  new  essence  with  every  mind  and 
man,  and  works  in  restless  agitations,  aiming  to  govern  the  whole 
earth  from  that  spring  of  power.  The  spirit  from  above,  and  the 
universe  from  without,  environ,  chastise  and  endow  it,  but  still  it 
remains,  for  ever  inviolate,  the  fated  well-head  of  human  life.  And 
as  with  individuals  so  with  nations.  Nature  is  at  the  bottom  there 
also,  inevitable  nationality  is  there  ;  character  improvable  but  inde- 
structible; destined  to  endure,  but  free  for  better  or  for  worse;  sub- 
stantial as  granite,  though  fluid  fire  of  the  passions;  a  rough  and 
tough  material,  but  fit  to  be  hewn  or  twisted  into  the  humanities. 

The  powers  or  issues  of  the  heart  are  homogeneous  throughout. 
Feeling  upon  feeling  arises  out  of  its  bosom,  and  humanity  is  built 
up  like  coral  continents  into  the  red  light  of  the  suns.     The   cease- 


THE  UNIVERSAL  HEARTS.  247 

less  pulse  which  is  the  invisible  architect,  makes  higher  and  broader 
dominions,  and  conceals  itself  in  its  works.  But  from  its  waves 
emerge  relations  and  societies  by  the  unerring  laws  imprinted  on 
itself.  Blood  knocks  against  nature's  ribs,  and  seeming  never  to 
come  out,  yet  issues  by  avenues  the  widest,  for  man  comes  heredi- 
tary out  of  man,  and  the  heart  fires  its  progeny  by  a  life  that  glows 
through  every  work,  and  streams  through  every  pore  of  feeling. 
The  bonds  of  this  second  heart  are  another  coil  of  loves,  firmer  than 
that  which  begot  them;  more  feeling  and  impenetrable  than  flesh; 
wound  tighter  around  their  objects,  with  a  more  terrible  grasp  at 
passing  circumstance ;  an  easier  and  more  fiery  communion  of  pas- 
sions; fortune's  greater  wheel  and  Providence's  handle;  the  second 
life  of  fear  and  of  courage,  of  good  or  of  evil. 

But  we  must  not  tarry  in  this  Yulcanian  or  Plutonic  centre, 
which  throws  us  forth  from  the  mighty  forge  where  the  archetypal 
powers  are  working.  It  is  enough  to  look  from  the  safe  outside  at 
the  ovens  where  God's  slaves,  the  Fates,  are  hammering  the  natural 
sinews  of  the  children  of  Adam.  Everything  in  those  dusky  ruddy 
halls  looks  monstrous  and  delusive,  and  the  steel  of  passion,  lither 
than  Volund's  sword,  bends  in  white-hot  waters  round  our  ankles. 
The  glare  also  of  living  blood  is  an  illumination  past  our  bearing. 
The  angel  of  the  Lord  must  be  with  us  in  the  burning  fiery  furnace 
of  the  passions,  and  even  of  their  science,  or  y,q  shall  not  fare  forth 
unhurt  like  Shadrach,  Meshach  and  Abednego. 

We  conclude  the  subject  of  the  heart  by  tracing  its  principle  in 
other  spheres,  for  the  vitals  of  man  run  through  the  world  by  per- 
mission from  all  the  natures,  and  the  human  body,  as  method  and 
light,  is  the  Novum  Organum  of  the  sciences. 

That  which  is  communion  and  circulation  in  the  body,  is  round- 
ness and  unity  in  the  world,  and  the  latter  are  the  produce  of  an 
inanimate,  as  the  former  of  a  living,  heart.  The  dead  heart  is  fire, 
which  beats  in  the  centre  of  things,  and  is  the  primitive  out-throw 
of  space.  Suns  and  systems  arise  like  bubbles  from  an  ocean  of 
glowing  ether  that  repels  them  into  being.  Fire  is  the  love  of 
spheres ;  first  it  makes  all  things  round,  and  afterwards  gives  them 
revolution  or  moving  roundness,  or  makes  circular  orbs  into  circula- 
tions.    All  things  are  of  one  color  in  its  glow;  all  things,  too,  be- 


248  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

come  tender  as  they  touch  it ;  the  metals  are  plastic  to  its  thumbs, 
and  granite  is  a  gristly  baby  and  has  its  melting  moods  in  those 
thin,  dreadful  arms.  This  chaotic  love  of  softness  and  roundness 
is  the  rudest  circle  of  the  ancestry  of  mothers  in  the  heart  of  the 
world,  where  the  eldest  crones  of  flame  move  purring  and  whirring 
round  "first  matter"  in  its  cradles;  a  giant  preparation  for  finer 
future  tenderness  in  never  ending  circles.  All  force  lies  here  in  its 
seed;  for  fire  is  dead  love,  or  natura  naturans.  Its  pulse  is  the 
quickness  of  substance  whereby  it  is  self-similar  in  all  property  and 
action;  the  urgency  of  gravitations,  chemicals,  gases  and  stones 
from  world's  end  to  world's  end ;  that  gesticulation  by  which  each 
thing  thumps  the  board  of  existence,  and  lays  down  the  law;  as  it 
were  the  blood  of  time  bounding  uniformly  in  his  mundane  body, 
and  if  felt  at  his  wrist  on  this  earth,  then  felt  for  his  whole  system, 
whether  in  Arcturus,  Pleiades,  or  Aldebaran. 

At  the  crust  where  earth  cools,  lo!  a  green  creeping  glow  project- 
ing a  new  earth  on  the  ruins  of  the  former.  The  first  pipes  of  flame 
are  its  models,  and  the  crystals,  veins  and  rockshafts  its  prophecies, 
as  they  branch  through  the  strata,  or  stiffen  upwards  in  the  vaporous 
air.  Seed,  plant  and  tree  have  come,  full  of  cool,  calculating  sap, 
revolving  organization;  the  vegetable  heart,  or  the  love  of  organism, 
is  beating.  The  steaming  of  the  terrene  crater  issues  now  through 
a  skin  of  temperature,  in  musical  flutes  of  a  second  fire,  through 
roots  into  new  flames,  which  are  trees,  each  the  candle  of  a  milder 
light  in  which  nature  is  seen.  Brute  heat  ceases,  and  fire  is  culti- 
vated. The  roundness  has  a  beginning,  a  middle  and  an  end ;  the 
seed  is  current,  and  runs  in  gyres  to  other  seeds;  growth  is  the  pur- 
pose of  this  heart,  and,  like  a  bamboo-cane,  every  joint  puts  forth  a 
new  joint,  till  the  ground  is  covered  with  the  green  and  gay  chain- 
armor  of  the  vegetable  soul. 

At  the  top  of  the  love  of  groAvth,  and  running  in  its  grooves, 
there  is  already  the  love  of  pleasure,  or  the  animal  fire.  The  round 
earth  or  tomb  of  the  primitive  heat  is  the  ground,  and  organism  is 
the  scaffolding,  but  pleasure  is  the  heart,  of  the  beasts.  Hence  a 
new  communion  and  a  new  circulation.  This  heart  beats  for  the 
alliances  of  the  animal  nature;  the  roundness  comes  closer;  the  birds 
are  mated  and  the  beasts  are  paired;  gregarious  herds  cluster  into 


THE  UNIVERSAL  HEARTS.  249 

globes  cm  prairie  and  in  forest  places;  the  community  feels  the  thrill 
of  its  parts,  and  with  open  sensories  creeps,  flies  or  gallops  under  its 
pressure  of  delights.  The  stroke  of  the  love  of  pleasure  throws 
each  creature  round  its  world,  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  its 
own  climatic  organs,  and  causes  it  to  seek  its  mesmerism  and  sham- 
pooing from  every  soil,  animal,  fruit  and  circumstance,  whose  friction 
is  good  for  food,  or  whose  look  is  pleasant  to  the  sight :  grasping  the 
lion  globule,  it  shoots  him  like  a  meteor  through  a  night  of  cruelties 
and  destructions ;  softly  kneading  the  lamb-globules,  it  coaxes  them 
about  over  meads  where  dew  is  bright  and  innocence  is  in  the  grass.* 
The  instincts  are  the  brightness  of  this  love — flames  in  which,  by 

*  Oil  the  above  principles  we  may  offer  a  fresh  rationale  of  the  make  of  the 
blood  and  the  offices  of  the  heart.  If  the  heart-principle  be  love  in  its  genera 
and  species,  the  known  effects  of  love  will  answer  to  those  of  the  heart.  Let 
us  take  an  instance  to  try  the  equation.  The  love  of  science  shall  be  the  heart 
that  we  choose  to  grasp  us.  This  love  lies  in  germ  in  the  affinity  between  in- 
tellect and  nature  ;  the  mind  can  be  assimilated  to  natural  laws ;  the  assimilation 
being  the  stomach  process  preceding  that  of  the  heart.  It  consists  in  throwing 
down  the  mind  before  the  new  object  as  it  were  into  a  fluid  state.  But  every 
science  is  round,  or  a  little  world  in  itself,  and  the  heart  functions  commence  by 
raising  up  our  vague  liquid  willingness  into  spherical  states.  Thereby  we 
turn  a  side  to  every  portion  of  our  subject,  make  ourselves  in  its  image,  or  be- 
come soft  and  impressible  to  it.  The  first  point  in  entering  into  any  sphere  is,  to 
become  ourselves  that  sphere  :  the  first  point  in  the  blood  life  lies  in  making  pre- 
vious fluids  into  globules  or  little  bodies  answering  to  the  body.  This  done,  the 
next  object  comes,  and  the  round  mind  can  go  the  round  of  the  field,  and  as  it  is 
alive  and  universal,  can  give  living  universality  away.  The  equilibrium  and 
plasticity  of  the  spherical  form  enable  it  to  pass  everywhere,  for  one  sphere  is 
applicable  to  every  other,  without  regard  to  difference  of  dimensions.  Moreover 
the  love  is  a  force,  energetic  upon  these  round  forms,  and  forces  them  to  visit 
the  parts  whose  affinities  they  feel.  The  blood  globule  is  the  love  of  the  whole 
body,  round  according  to  its  mathematics,  and  in  the  centre  of  the  whole ;  hence 
it  represents  the  radii  of  the  body,  and  necessarily  travels  along  each,  to  deposit 
in  the  circumference  the  virtues  of  the  centre.  The  correspondence  of  physiolo- 
gical love  or  heart  love  with  other  love  is  therefore  plain.  .For  love  makes  its 
subject  alive,  spheral,  soft,  impressible,  facile,  cosmopolitan  or  universal ;  in 
short,  makes  it  into  circles,  and  carries  it  into  circulations.  Love  is  to  the  heart 
what  the  falling  apple  of  Newton  was  to  the  moon  ;  it  brings  self-evidence  to  the 
seemingly  inaccessible  half  of  the  equation;  and  with  self-evidence  science  is 
content. 

Corollary.— There  is  no  subject  or  thing  that  we  may  not  explore,  if  we  love 
it,  and  where  we  fail,  it  is  that  we  are  not  loving  or  spherical ;  for  if  we  were,  we 
should  gyrate  through  it  as  necessarily  as  our  blood  courses  through  our  bodies. 


250  THE  HUMAN  HEART. 

the  creative  love,  the  animal  has  visions  of  ways  and  means;  for 
instincts  are  animal  revelations. 

The  love  of  sphere,  the  love  of  organism,  and  the  love  of  pleasure 
or  harmonic  sensation,  the  triple  hearts  of  nature,  are  included  ip.  a 
new  heart,  which  circulates  man  through  the  former  places,  and 
through  others  that  exist  for  man  alone.  The  heart  whose  grasp  is 
now  upon  us  is  the  love  of  happiness,  which  carries  us  as  men  through 
our  various  day.  The  love  of  happiness  must  walk  through  the  laws 
of  happiness,  and  hence  pleasure  is  bored  by  the  augers  of  duty, 
and  the  happy  take  the  course  which  that  iron  leaves  free. 

At  the  top  of  this,  as  it  were  a  vane  or  guide,  a  heart  seizes  the 
mind,  and  this  is,  the  love  of  truth,  which  clasps  the  faculties  in  the 
exactest  unity,  and  commands  them  out  on  the  most  far-reaching 
circulations.  As  all  that  is  real,  is  an  effluence  of  the  truth,  this 
heart  determines  us  everywhere ;  for  the  love  of  truth  impels  the 
lover  of  truth  wherever  truth  lies.  This  insures  the  ubiquity  of  the 
mind,  according  to  the  declaration  of  the  Psalmist :  "If  I  ascend 
up  into  heaven,  Thou  art  there :  if  I  make  my  bed  in  hell,  behold 
Thou  art  there :  if  I  take  the  wings  of  the  morning,  and  dwell  in 
the  uttermost  parts  of  the  sea,  even  there  shall  thy  hand  lead  me, 
and  thy  right  hand  shall  hold  me."  But  in  loving  the  truth,  we 
love  what  we  do  not  know,  and  hence  this  heart  is  faith,  the  force 
and  fountain  of  knowledge,  the  muscle  that  commands  and  sends 
forth  the  true  intellect  since  our  world  began. 

But  a  new  heart  is  upon  us,  not  made  but  created,  not  invented 
but  here;  and  this  is,  the  love  of  life.  Thereby  the  soul  is  deter- 
mined to  visit  the  avenues  of  the  everlasting  constructions;  to  take 
its  architecture  from  all  firmaments,  and  rear  forth  the  body  out  of 
the  marrows  and  backbones  of  the  cosmic  laws :  to  study  in  the 
schools  of  order  and  truth  which  are  stability;  to  ask  of  all  good 
plants  the  direction  of  the  tree  of  life;  to  ponder  every  old  story, 
from  north  or  from  east,  that  babbles  of  the  waters  of  health  and 
the  fountains  of  youth;  and  to  hang  on  the  lips  of  revelation,  which 
brings  life  and  immortality  to  light.  This  is  our  thread  of  golden 
fire  that  runs  through  the  broken  moments  of  time.  This  is  the 
sustenance  of  the  body,  garrisoned  with  invulnerable  troops,  a  buckler 
against  the  hostile  chemistries  of  earth  and  air.     This  is  the  safety 


THE  UNIVERSAL  HEARTS.  251 

of  happiness,  which  with  Caesar  and  his  fortunes  on  deck,  rocks  with 
treble  thrill  upon  the  waves,  a  life  boat  to  which  ocean  danger  is  a 
game.  This  sends  the  soul  to  heroism,  as  its  mark  and  print  upon 
earth,  and  by  contemplation  to  the  starry  vault,  as  the  second  glass 
of  its  endurance.  In  a  word,  the  love  of  life,  its  own  permanence, 
brings  the  soul  to  the  earth,  because  it  is  God's  footstool,  and  bids 
it  go  to  heaven,  because  it  is  his  throne.  In  these  errands  it  runs 
through  every  other  love;  passes  every  scene,  action,  affection, 
through  its  fires,  and  gives  it  the  immortal  enamel;  and  crowns 
itself  in  death,  for  the  soul  that  erewhile  only  loved  life,  then  loves 
life  beyond  life. 

And  as  ancient  chiefs  traced  their  lineage  to  the  Gods,  we  follow 
their  figure,  and  track  up  the  heart  loves  until  they  claim  parentage 
from  the  God  of  love.  There  is  another  heart,  which  is  the  love  of 
God,  and  which  by  faith,  life,  and  all  faculty  not  heartless,  propels 
us  to  the  home  of  many  mansions,  where  the  father  dwells.  But 
we  love  God  because  He  first  loved  us ;  and  the  force  and  pulse  of 
his  love  is  felt  in  his  Commandments.  His  "  Thou  shalt"  seizes 
our  "  I  will,"  carries  it  forth,  and  commands  for  it  the  blessing,  even 
life  for  evermore.  The  Christian  heart  is  the  Word:  "Thou  shalt 
love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and 
with  all  thy  strength;  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself."  This  is  the 
first  and  great  Commandment. 


252  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 


Of  all  the  creatures  of  the  natural  world,  man  is  intended  as  the 
most  finished,  or,  in  other  words,  the  most  exquisitely  finite,  and  the 
skin  is  the  instrument  which  first  hems  him  in,  and  by  limiting,  com- 
pletes and  individualizes  him.  The  skin  is  therefore  his  house  and 
stronghold ;  the  architecture  of  his  frame;  and  this  is  the  simple  idea 
of  the  numerous  offices  that  it  performs.  Without  this  boundary, 
the  body  would  not  contain  its  possessions,  and  would  have  no  con- 
tinence, outline  and  end,  but  be  shed  and  dissipated  in  the  univer,  e. 
Moreover  the  external  skin  is  the  outermost  of  a  series  of  coverings 
which  extend  to  all  parts  of  the  frame,  and  to  every  particle  of  the 
part.  All  these  are  skins,  connected  with  the  general  skin,  and  as 
we  follow  them  through  one  depth  of  structure  after  another,  we  can- 
not but  arrive  at  the  conception  that  they  are  the  firmament  in  which 
the  organism  is  set,  and  that  to  take  them  away,  would  reduce  the 
body  to  an  invisible  essence,  or  at  least  to  a  fluid,  to  whose  volume 
we  could  no  more  assign  a  permanent  shape  than  to  the  unsteady 
atmosphere.  The  skin  then  contributes  to  the  idea  of  life  the  com- 
plementary functions  of  shape  and  form,  which  must  pervade  all 
existences  before  they  can  take  up  any  location,  perform  any  act,  or 
become  the  organ,  or  object,  of  any  faculty  whatever.  In  a  compre- 
hensive sense,  the  skin,  under  a  thousand  forms,  is  the  one  vessel  of 
the  human  spirit;  it  is  all  that  is  tangent  and  tangible  in  us.  With- 
out it,  the  brains  would  have  no  receiver  wherein  to  pour  their  in- 
fluences ;  the  lungs  would  have  no  fulcrum  whereupon  to  draw  their 
breaths ;  and  the  heart,  with  the  other  parts,  would  redissolve  into 
their  unbounded  blood :  in  a  word,  as  we  said  before,  there  would 
be  no  body  at  all. 


GENERAL  FUNCTIONS.  253 

What  is  true  of  the  man,  is  true  of  bis  molecules.  The  microscope 
affirms  that  the  smallest  organic  atoms  which  are  visible  are  little 
rounded  vesicles  or  cells,  very  similar  in  appearance  to  some  of  those 
low  forms  of  animal  life  denominated  infusoria.  These  cells  are  the 
brick-field  of  the  animal  body,  and  each  of  them  with  its  contents  is 
a  small  skinful  of  liquid.  Here  we  have  the  simplest  form  of  active 
and  passive — of  skin  and  fluid ;  and  if  in  imagination  you  attempt 
to  skin  the  primordial  vesicle,  you  have  the  simplest  instance  of  what 
would  happen  if  you  could  abstract  the  skin  from  the  human  body. 
For  the  frame  in  its  mighty  details  is  even  such  a  vesicle,  but  con- 
tracted into  chambers  innumerable,  and  its  wall  folded  inwards  into 
the  whole  complexity  of  our  organization. 

Let  us,  however,  concentrate  attention  upon  the  skin  proper,  es 
being  the  face  and  index  of  the  other  skins,  observing  first,  that  the 
general  presence  to  which  we  allude  in  speaking  of  the  skin,  is  a  fact 
which  holds,  in  structure  or  in  function,  of  every  great  division  of 
the  organism.  If  the  skin  passes  inwards,  and  seems,  as  we  trace 
it,  to  be  the  whole  body,  the  same  wholeness  and  ubiquity  may  be 
alleged  for  other  parts.  Any  separate  life  can  be  pursued  to  the 
end  of  the  frame.  The  arteries  and  veins,  issuing  from  the  heart, 
so  permeate  the  regions,  organs  and  tissues,  that  when  they  are  in- 
jected with  wax  or  mercury,  the  shape  of  the  parts  seems  complete, 
though  with  nothing  but  blood-vessels.  The  nerves  likewise  form  a 
tree  which  ramifies  everywhere;  which  has  eyes,  nose  and  mouth, 
body,  limbs,  and  ends;  and  in  short,  represents  the  human  shape. 
Even  the  viscera,  as  the  lungs,  the  liver,  and  the  like,  which  do  not 
substantially  extend  beyond  a  limited  space,  yet  reach  by  their  mo- 
tions, fluids  and  influences  to  the  body  at  large,  and  draw  their  sup- 
port from  the  common  stock,  whether  far  or  near.  The  human  body 
consists  of  universal  principles;  it  is  one  system,  or  many  systems, 
according  as  it  is  viewed ;  and  every  part  is  in  all,  and  for  all.  Man 
therefore  is  the  coalescence  of  many  men,  each  fulfilling  the  inter- 
stices of  duty  that  the  others  do  not  occupy,  and  this  plenitude  it  is 
which  makes  him  into  a  substance,  private  from  the  world.  There 
is  no  room  in  his  body,  but  only  humanity  completing  humanity. 
This  is  nowhere  better  exemplified  than  in  the  skin,  which  is  the 
end  of  the  whole  and  the  parts.  For  the  skin-man  stands  beyond 
22 


254  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

as  well  as  between  all  his  fellows,  and  clasps  them  into  one.  He 
has  the  rest  not  only  in  his  arms,  but  in  his  legs,  his  loins,  and  his 
head.     In  short,  he  is  all-embracing. 

The  skin  is  a  threefold  or  fourfold  clothing  to  the  surface  of  the 
body;  its  layers  firmly  connected  to  each  other,  and  consisting  of 
the  superficial  layer  or  cuticle,  also  called  the  scarf-skin — that  of 
which  we  see  the  polish  on  our  hands  and  faces ;  secondly,  a  deeper 
layer,  the  Rete  Mucosum,  in  which  the  coloring  matter  of  the  skin 
resides ;  and  thirdly,  the  Corium,  Cutis,  or  true  skin,  which  itself 
comprises  two  layers;  viz.,  a  sensitive  sheet  of  papillae  or  minute 
eminences  whose  summits  look  surfacewards;  and  a  firm  texture  of 
fibres  underneath,  supporting  the  papilla  and  the  other  layers  of  the 

We  will  now  reverse  the  order,  and  regard  these  skins  in  detail, 
contemplating  each  by  the  light  of  its  function,  and  we  may  assure 
the  reader  at  the  beginning,  that  he  is  already  acquainted  intuitively 
with  the  main  offices  of  the  skin,  and  only  requires  to  connect  them 
to  their  anatomy,  in  order  to  gain  a  memorable  knowledge  of  the 
present  subject. 

Underneath  the  skin,  the  exterior  of  the  body  is  muscular  and 
active,  with  considerable  unevenness  between  the  parts,  some  of  the 
muscles  being  very  prominent ;  and  to  meet  the  irregularity,  and 
also  to  afford  an  unguent  for  comfortable  motion,  the  surface  is 
padded  with  fat,  which  reduces  it  to  a  level,  and  rounds  it  into 
convenient  beauty,  smoothing  the  harshness  of  the  firm  flesh,  and 
gently  cushioning  and  combining  its  decisive  actions. 

But  the  fat  alone  could  by  no  means  repress  the  starting  muscles, 
or  define  the  voluntary  movements.  The  will  would  run  out  of  the 
leaky  vessel  before  it  reached  its  jets  in  the  hands  and  feet,  if  the 
good  easy  fat  were  the  only  hindrance.  Our  fat  then  requires  to  be 
bounded  by  a  ring  of  sterner  powers.  This  second  provision  is  the 
deep  layer  placed  immediately  upon  the  fat,  of  the  corium,  leather, 
or  true  skin.  The  corium  is  adapted  to  contain  the  inner  parts  and 
functions.  It  consists  of  meshes  of  fibres  inextricably  felted  toge- 
ther. These  are  of  many  kinds  and  many  purposes.  The  greater 
part  are  tendinous,  some  muscular,  some  nervous,  with  all  interme- 
diate stages  of  nature ;  indeed  they  comprise  the  entire  scale  of 


DESCRIPTION.  255 

reaction,  from  its  passive  to  its  active  form  ;  from  the  power  of 
inertness  to  the  power  of  actual  resistance.  Whatever  is  continent 
and  tenacious  in  the  body,  sends  its  representatives  to  the  assembled 
fibres  of  the  corium.  The  compression  that  they  jointly  exercise,  is 
facilitated,  and  at  the  same  time  mitigated,  by  the  mode  in  which 
they  are  put  together,  whereby  they  constitute  myriads  of  tent-like 
orifices,  with  the  broad  part  of  the  tent  towards  the  fat,  and  the 
peak  towards  the  surface  ;  a  solid  space  of  corium  being  left  between 
these  tented  pores,  which  are  filled  with  little  bags  of  fat,  and  with 
serous  fluid,  upon  which  the  contraction  of  the  skin  first  takes  effect. 
In  this  way  the  force  is  communicated  almost  through  fluids,  with 
the  utmost  power  to  the  general  surface,  but  with  the  least  violence 
to  the  parts.  The  contractility  of  this  envelope  is  a  measure  of  the 
tone  and  strength  of  the  body;  it  is  conspicuous  in  bracing  winter 
mornings,  and  in  cold  bathing,  which  make  us  notably  tighter  and 
more  compact. 

The  corium,  in  its  elastic  life,  not  only  prevents  the  loss  of  mus- 
cular force,  or  embanks  the  streams  of  will,  but  it  has  the  material 
design  of  preventing  the  disorderly  entrance  of  substances  from 
without,  and  the  undue  alienation  of  fluids  from  within.  This  func- 
tion supposes  in  the  skin  a  discriminating  power,  or  sense  of  touch 
— a  like  and  dislike — to  inform  the  brain  of  whatever  goes  on  at 
the  outposts ;  and  also  an  active  power,  to  enable  the  skin  to  obey 
its  consequent  decrees.  That  which  feels  and  acts  in  these  subtle 
purposes,  is  the  next  layer  of  the  skin,  the  papillary  cutis,  more 
superficial  than  the  corium.  This  is  an  encampment  of  small  conical 
tents  co-extensive  with  the  surface  of  the  body,  differing  however  in 
different  parts,  both  in  the  thickness  with  which  the  papillae  are 
set,  and  in  their  size  and  power.  The  papillary  substance  is  a 
Briarean  limb  put  forth  from  the  corium,  consisting  also  of  fibrous 
elements,  and  quick  with  blood  distributed  in  meshes  of  inconceiva- 
ble fineness  which  pervade  the  papilla,  and  communicate  with  similar 
networks  in  the  layer  underneath.  Our  finger-ends  are  a  type  of 
all  the  papillae,  and  like  the  fingers,  the  papillae  are  instruments  both 
of  feeling  and  prehension.  They  are  eminently  movable,  and  being 
provided  with  nerves,  and  grouped  together  in  different  forms,  they 
constitute  with  the  corium,  of  whose  grasp  of  the  whole  body  they 


256  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

are  the  infinitesimals,  the  immense  field  of  touch  and  take — the  basis 
of  the  pyramid  of  the  senses. 

But  the  necessity  that  sent  us  from  the  fat  to  the  corium,  and 
from  the  corium  to  the  papillae,  pushes  us  onwards  to  demand  fur- 
ther instruments.  The  papillae  depending  for  their  exquisite  life 
upon  the  most  delicate  sensibility,  upon  pleasures  and  pains  so  fine 
that  our  senses  give  scarcely  an  idea  of  them,  must  not  be  exposed 
directly  to  the  rude  breath  of  the  outer  world,  which  would  cause 
them  agony,  and  soon  blunt  them  to  the  delights  of  touch.  The 
papillae  therefore  cannot  be  the  last  covering.  What  is  nature's  next 
resource  ?  The  blunter  sensations  are  themselves  assumed  by  the 
superaddition  of  new  layers  ;  not  however  actively  sensitive  layers, 
but  beds  of  organization  that  less  feel  themselves,  than  regulate  the 
feelings  of  the  skin.  These  coarser  touches  become  the  matrix  and 
defence  of  the  finer.  The  layer  covering  in  the  papillae  must  of 
course  be  soft  and  yielding,  or  it  would  be  as  injurious  to  the  parts 
beneath  as  external  objects  themselves  ;  at  least  when  contact  with 
the  outer  world  is  taking  place.  This  layer  is  the  rete  mucosum, 
or  mucous  network  of  the  old  anatomists. 

It  is  a  soft,  tenacious  substance,  placed  upon  and  between  the 
conical  papillae,  and  furnishes  a  bed  that  groups  them  together,  and 
into  which  they  protrude.  When  carefully  peeled  off,  and  viewed 
by  the  microscope  against  the  light,  it  assumes  the  appearance  of  a 
network,  which  is  caused  by  the  counter-sinking  whereby  it  fits  to 
the  uneven  surface  of  the  papillae ;  the  thin  places  seeming  like 
holes.  Possibly  also  some  of  the  papillae  perforate  it.  This  layer 
is  the  seat  of  the  color  of  the  skin  both  in  the  European  and  other 
races,  and  what  is  remarkable,  the  coloring  matter  is  chiefly  abun- 
dant in  its  inner  parts,  and  decreases  outwards ;  though  sometimes 
dark  points  continue  to  the  surface,  and  form  little  streamlets  of 
blackness  as  far  as  the  exterior  integument. 

The  unfinished  softness  of  the  rete,  necessary  for  fostering  the 
papillae,  unfits  it  for  contact  with  tangible  objects,  which  would 
lacerate  it  at  the  first  touch  ;  and  consequently  nature  (in  which 
utility  is  creative),  not  only  compresses  and  hardens  the  rete  in  its 
superficial  parts,  but  superadds  to  it  a  fine  covering  termed  the 
cuticle,  a  kind  of  glazy  platework,  capable  of  assuming,  at  the  bid- 


DESCRIPTION.  257 

ding  of  the  same  principle  of  utility,  whatever  thickness  and  deadness 
is  required.  Formed  out  of  flattened  vesicles  or  cells,  the  cuticle, 
in  its  adult  condition,  consists  in  point  of  fact  of  scales ;  of  which 
our  finger  nails  are  the  largest  and  strongest  type. 

We  have  now  considered  a  fourfold  mechanism  in  the  skin,  deriv- 
ing all  from  the  general  fact,  that  the  skin  gives  an  outline  and  end 
to  the  body.  We  will  briefly  recapitulate  our  positions,  in  order  to 
cover  in  this  part  of  the  subject.  The  body  requires  to  be  levelled, 
both  for  safety  to  its  parts,  and  economy  of  space;  this  is  brought 
about  by  the  fat,  and  the  cellular  frame-work,  which  round  our 
muscular  ridges,  fill  their  clefts,  and  give  sweep  and  curve  to  our 
plains.  The  body  requires  to  be  limited,  as  well  in  itself,  as  in 
what  it  takes  in  and  gives  out ;  this  is  accomplished  by  the  elastic 
garment  of  the  corium,  which  follows  our  bodily  fashions,  and  sits 
upon  us  differently  during  every  moment  of  our  lives.  Furthermore 
the  corium  requires  to  do  knowingly  whatever  it  performs ;  to  act 
discreetly  in  its  functions;  to  animate  reaction,  absorption  and  ex- 
halation, with  the  life  of  the  brain,  and  this  is  insured  by  the  papillae, 
which  are  both  brains  and  hands  to  the  skin.  The  papilla?  on  their 
part  need  support,  encouragement  and  protection,  which  are  accorded 
to  them  in  the  kindly  rete,  and  in  the  fine,  half-earthly  cuticle,  which 
latter  is  the  direct  medium  between  the  little  world  and  the  great 
world,  or  between  sense  and  exterior  nature. 

In  these  pages  we  do  not  treat  of  the  sense  of  touch,  excepting 
so  far  as  it  may  be  necessary  to  the  general  consideration  of  the 
skin,  but  we  notice  nevertheless  from  what  has  been  said,  that  the 
skin  enjoys  a  triple  sensibility.  First  there  is  the  sensation  of  con- 
tact from  the  three  layers  at  once,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  surface  in- 
wards; the  papilke  make  common  cause  with  the  rete  and  cuticle,  and 
all  feel  together.  This  answers  to  cuticular  sensation  or  gross  touch, 
and  runs  in  direct  lines  from  the  cuticle,  through  the  rete,  to  the 
papilla).  In  the  next  order,  arising  from  the  first,  we  have  those 
perceptions  of  touch  which  are  the  consciousness  of  the  papillae  clad 
with  the  rete  alone,  the  cuticle  not  sharing  in  these  inner  feelings. 
This  species  of  touch  is  chiefly  horizontal,  and  spreads  over  the  live 
velvet  in  sheets  of  vague  sensibility.     The  last  pinnacle  of  this 

touch,  and  whose  activity  is  tact,  belongs  to  the  papilla?  alone,  with 

09* 


258  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

their  naked  summits  and  tiny  vortical  brains.  It  is  so  individual, 
that  we  can  put  forth  almost  a  single  papilla,  as  it  were  a  finger 
from  the  finger,  and  play  with  a  little  agony  of  quest  round  atomical 
objects.*  The  lines  of  thought  and  purpose  meet  it,  and  set  it 
moving  in  curved  explorations.  These  three  species  of  touch  in 
their  union,  make  touch  itself  into  a  substance,  and  give  it  over  to 
the  mind,  which  communicates  with  the  skin,  not  at  first  hand,  but 
through  the  mind  of  the  skin. 

The  skin,  so  far  as  we  have  considered  it,  isolates  the  man,  and 
makes  him  world-tight.  It  is,  however,  necessary  that  the  world's 
goods  should  come  into  his  house,  and  that  his  own  produce,  not  to 
say  refuse  and  wear  and  tear,  should  be  carried  forth :  nay  more, 
that  he  himself  should  go  out  and  in  with  the  common  freedom  that 
a  man  requires.  The  skin  is  our  abode,  and  not  our  prison.  It 
must  therefore  have  bivalve  doors  and  windows,  opening  inwards 
and  outwards,  and  these,  as  small  as  the  supplies  that  are  to  come 
from  without,  and  collectively  as  large  as  the  spirit  that  is  to  step 
forth  from  within.  In  short,  the  skin,  that  is  to  say,  the  body, 
must  be  porous. 

The  cuticle  or  superficial  layer  is  a  very  permeable  membrane, 
and  the  more  closely  it  is  examined,  the  more  porous  it  appears. 
Three  orders  of  perforations  are  visible  upon  it  to  the  naked  eye; 

*  It  is  not  perhaps  easy  to  realize  this  statement,  seeing  that  all  the  layers  are 
perraanetly  united  to  each  other ;  but  so  are  the  parts  of  the  nervous  system, 
which  yet  may  be  functionally  separated,  and  the  action  of  the  higher,  or 
the  lower,  stopped  oif  by  the  force  of  the  mind.  We  may  lay  it  down  as  a 
rule,  that  the  process  by  which  nature  unites  is  also  inversely  the  process  by 
which  she  separates,  or  that  all  her  syntheses  contain  analyses,  and  vice  versa. 
It  is  necessary  also  to  take  into  account  the  existence  of  spheres  of  life  as 
well  as  spheres  of  substances ;  for  the  life  of  a  part  extends  beyond  it,  and  can 
come  bare  to  the  surface,  abrogating  for  the  time  the  hindrance  of  whatever 
parts  lie  between  it  and  its  object.  It  must  be  remembered  that  we  are  not  now 
treating  of  dead  layers  but  of  three  cooperating  lives,  each  of  which  abstracts 
itself  from  the  others  as  use  requires.  Hence  the  prodigious  sensibility  of  the 
skin,  and  the  naked  tenderness  of  the  feelings  in  many  cases.  The  difference 
between  papillary  tact  and  cuticular  touch  is  but  a  difference  of  animation.  In 
all  cases  the  inner  can  be  separated  from  the  outer,  and  itself  become  the  outer, 
under  favorable  circumstances.  The  soul  can  be  separated  from  the  body,  viz., 
at  death,  and  this  is  the  universal  of  powers  of  abstraction  or  separation  existing 
everywhere  in  the  body  itself. 


UNIVERSAL  POROSITY.  259 

namely,  the  large  perspiratory  ducts,  whose  orifices  may  be  seen  as 
little  clottings  on  the  wavy  ridges  at  the  ends  of  the  fingers ;  the 
sebaceous  follicles  which  anoint  the  skin  with  a  thin  limpid  oil  that 
prevents  the  excessive  evaporation  of  watery  moisture ;  and  the  pas- 
sages which  lodge  and  transmit  the  hairs.  All  these  are  channels 
of  communication  for  influences,  that  is  to  say,  influential  sub- 
stances, from  the  body  to  the  world,  and  vice  versa.  They  are 
simple  involutions  of  the  skin  upon  itself,  or  portions  of  its  three 
layers  as  it  were  pushed  deeply  inwards,  and  the  end  of  the  tube  so 
intruded,  wound  upon  itself  into  a  little  bail  in  the  perspiratory 
pores  and  sebaceous  follicles;  whilst  in  the  hairs  on  the  other  hand, 
the  tube  is  formed  as  before,  but  the  cuticle  at  the  bottom  of  it 
grows  into  a  prolonged  cylinder  that  comes  out  again  through  the 
orifice ;  the  hair  being  essentially  a  linear  extension  of  the  cuticle. 
All  these  organs,  viz.,  the  perspiratory  glands  and  ducts,  the  seba- 
ceous follicles,  and  the  hairs,  in  the  channels  of  which  latter  the 
sebaceous  follicles  frequently  open,  are  beset  with  little  blood-vessels; 
and  as  the  matters  given  out  and  taken  in,  either  come  from,  or  go 
to,  the  blood,  so  the  exterior  pores  are  but  the  outer  porticoes  to  the 
real  pores  that  lie  in  the  sides  of  the  blood-vessels.  The  porosity 
of  the  outer  skin  is  the  sign  of  a  universal  porosity  in  the  system, 
whereby,  according  to  circumstances,  everywhere  leads  to  every- 
where.* 

The  offices  necessarily  performed  by  the  skin  as  the  frontier  of 
the  body,  consists  in  the  purification  of  the  system,  in  the  elimina- 
tion cf  some  of  its  products,  and  in  its  renovation  by  fresh  substances, 
all  under  the  auspices  of  the  sense  of  touch.  We  will  now  regard 
it  by  the  light  of  this  threefold  function.  And  first,  for  the  office 
of  'purification. 

This  is  effected  by  the  entire  surface  of  the  body,  which  is  con- 
tinually giving  off  an  atmosphere  of  exhalations,  differing  in  quantity 
as  well  as  grossness  at  different  times.     It  is  calculated  by  an  inge- 

*  The  same  muscles  which  produce  action  without,  and  carry  us  along  our 
way,  shape  and  alter  the  ways  and  channels  within,  determining  the  fluids  be- 
tween new  embankments  of  substances  in  action;  and  the  possibility  of  these 
constant  changes  in  the  organism,  whereby  every  action  makes  its  own  facilities, 
is  due  to  the  porous  cooperation  of  the  skin  man. 


260  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

nious  anatomist,  that  in  a  square  inch  of  skin  there  is  a  length  of 
tubing  of  73  feet,  or  in  the  whole  body,  of  28  miles;  this  vast 
drain-work  being  intended  to  conduct  effete  materials  from  the 
system.  Every  organ  is  engaged  night  and  day  in  sweating  them 
out,  through  passages  more  or  less  circuitous,  to  the  border  shores 
of  the  skin.  What  is  the  nature  of  this  large  clearance  of  goods  ? 
or  what  is  its  common  source  ? 

The  blood  is  the  origin  of  the  sensible  perspiration,  which  com- 
prises both  the  watery  matter  given  off  by  the  perspiratory  glands, 
and  the  unctuous  moisture  which  oozes  from  the  sebaceous  follicles. 
This  is  shown  by  the  fact  that  the  skin,  and  especially  its  glands 
and  follicles,  are  beset  with  sheets  of  capillaries ;  and  the  fat  itself, 
which  furnishes  the  matter  to  the  sebaceous  follicles,  is  a  deposit 
from  the  blood.  The  rule  is,  that  the  blood  all  over  the  system  is 
constantly  sent  to  the  frontier,  and  its  useless  portions,  averse  to  the 
life  and  movements  of  the  rest,  are  let  out  through  the  skin,  in 
obedience  to  their  own  unsocial  tendency;  the  skin  itself  regulating 
their  escape,  and  preventing  the  life  of  the  body  from  being  led 
away  at  the  same  time  with  the  worn-out  or  ill-affected  perspirations. 
This  is  shown  to  be  the  case  in  health  by  what  takes  place  in  disease, 
as  well  as  during  fear  and  other  mental  emotions,  in  which  the  proper 
constraint  is  not  employed  by  the  skin,  and  the  living  essences  them- 
selves run  away  in  crowds  from  the  irritated  and  incontinent  blood-ves- 
sels. As  in  other  parts  of  the  capillary  system,  the  nervous  fibres  are 
the  intelligent  agents  of  the  above  elimination,  and  governing,  that  is, 
opening  and  shutting  the  pores,  from  the  minute  doors  of  the  blood- 
vessels to  the  wide  avenues  in  the  skin,  they  grant  or  refuse  passports 
to  the  various  applicants  that  incline  to  go  out  into  the  world.  This 
office  of  the  nerves  is  seconded  by  the  mechanism  of  the  parts,  for 
the  perspiratory  and  sebaceous  ducts  rise  from  the  convoluted  glands 
in  spiral  turns  through  the  layers  of  the  skin,  and  their  orifices  also 
exhibit  the  law  of  the  spiral  pathway,  and  are  half-closed  by  the 
cuticle,  which  shuts  down  upon  them  like  a  lid,  from  under  which 
the  perspiration  escapes  obliquely,  by  overcoming  its  gentle  force ; 
exsinuation  and  insinuation  being  the  methods  of  this  commonwealth. 
The  cutaneous  exhalation  is  reckoned  at  nearly  30  ounces  per  day, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  about  twice  the  average  quantity  of  matter 


THE  TRANSPIRATIONS.  261 

breathed  out  during  the  same  time  by  the  lungs.  The  skin  is 
therefore  our  greatest  theatre  of  substantial  change,  just  as  the 
sense  of  touch  is  the  most  influential  of  the  senses,  impressions 
upon  which  will  alter  the  mind  when  other  means  have  failed. 

The  perspiration  is  of  use  up  to  the  moment  of  its  ejection  ;  nay, 
after  quitting  the  frame,  it  partially  remains  on,  and  around,  the 
surface,  fomenting  the  cuticle  by  its  watery  portions,  anointing  it  by 
the  oily,  and  providing  it  with  suppleness,  and  power  of  intelligent 
motion  or  animal  fluidity.  Take  away  this  natural  cosmetic,  and 
what  a  dried  and  painful  expanse  is  the  skin  ;  as  in  fevers,  each 
joint  of  the  tesselated  surface  grates  upon  its  hinges,  until  the 
dulled  sense  is  stung  with  a  misery  that  rouses  the  whole  nervous 
system  for  its  removal.  Nothing  can  show  more  clearly  the  great 
though  gentle  power  that  the  cuticle  exercises  in  health,  when  it  is 
soft  and  pliable — its  power  of  reaction  as  the  general  bond  of  the 
skin,  and  of  performing  the  functions  included  under  this  reaction 
— than  the  disadvantages  that  result  when  this  thin  varnish,  as  it 
is  considered,  is  either  removed,  unhealthily  produced,  or  not  suf- 
ficiently fomented  with  its  appropriate  emollients  and  unguents. 
The  interests  at  stake  in  the  suppleness  of  the  cuticle  are  known 
instinctively  by  savages,  and  tribes  that  despise  dress,  yet  protect 
themselves  by  a  garment  of  oil  and  red  ochre,  which  serves  as  a 
supplement  to  the  perspirations,  as  well  as  takes  the  place  of  other 
clothes.  Our  own  oils,  perfumes  and  pomades  come  from  a  similar 
instinct,  and  every  one  must  have  experienced  that  dryness,  whether 
of  the  skin  or  hair,  is  more  than  a  detriment  to  comeliness — that 
it  amounts  to  discomfort,  verging  fast  towards  pain.* 

Besides  the  sensible  perspiration,  another  species  used  formerly 

*  The  use  of  the  cuticle,  as  we  have  seen,  is  to  modify  the  sense  of  touch, 
or  to  produce  a  more  external  sense  by  reducing  the  papillary  keenness  and 
liveliness  to  earthy  conditions.  It  is  not  what  the  cuticle  seems,  but  what  it 
does,  that  shows  what  it  is.  It  produces  the  most  general  sense  of  all,  which 
sets  in  motion  the  next  wheels  of  sense  according  as  itself  is  moved.  Hence 
scaly  and  cuticular  diseases  are  full  of  annoyance,  and  subvert  the  sense  as 
effectually  as  diseases  mainly  affecting  the  other  layers.  Hence  too  the  pleasant 
effect  of  cleanliness  and  ablutions.  In  considering  the  penetration  of  effects  from 
without,  it  is  best  to  think  of  the  cuticle  as  not  a  layer  but  a  sense,  and  that  sense 
the  outmost,  and  therefore  the  first  determinant  of  the  quantity  and  quality  of 
feeling  that  comes  in. 


2G2  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

to  be  admitted  under  the  head  of  the  insensible  perspiration,  and 
which  was  reckoned  different  from  the  former,  though  now  it  is  re- 
garded as  only  the  minimum  of  which  the  sensible  sort  is  the  max- 
imum. We  prefer  the  old  classification,  which  marks  a  broad  dis- 
tinction both  in  the  circumstances  and  form  of  the  fluid.  The  one 
is  to  the  other  what  oil,  or  liquid,  is  to  gas.  As  a  writer  has  said : 
"  If  we  examine  with  a  microscope  the  naked  body,  exposed  during 
summer  to  the  rays  of  a  burning  sun,  it  appears  surrounded  with  a 
cloud  of  steam,  which  becomes  invisible  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  surface.  And  if  the  body  is  placed  before  a  white  wall,  it  is 
easy  to  distinguish  the  shadow  of  that  emanation."  This  emana- 
tion, as  the  author  calls  it,  constitutes  a  large  proportion  of  what 
the  skin  gives  forth.  Its  functions  are  no  doubt  both  purificatory 
and  anointing.  It  would  seem  to  arise  from  the  finer  pores  in  the 
skin,  and  from  pores  in  the  sides  of  the  perspiratory  and  sebaceous 
ducts  )  for  let  us  bear  in  recollection,  that  it  is  impossible  to  conceive 
anything  not  porous,  and  the  same  principle  of  permeability  which  is 
a  physical  fact  in  the  external  world,  is  an  organic  fact  in  the  human 
body,  commencing  from  the  skin. 

A  ratio  of  size  is  required  between  the  pores  or  passages,  and  the 
sweats.  This  is  partly  insured  by  the  varying  contractility  of  the 
former.  But  the  difference  between  the  sensible  and  insensible 
perspiration  is  too  great  for  this  case  to  meet  it.  Different  sized 
pores  are  necessary.  The  condition  of  what  transpires  through  the 
skin,  is  touch.  A  fine  perspiration  would  not  be  felt  by  too  large 
a  pore,  and  the  skin,  when  such  perspiration  passed,  would  know 
nothing  about  it.  The  story  of  him  who  cut  two  holes  in  his  barn 
door,  the  one  for  the  cocks  and  hens,  and  the  other  for  the  little 
chickens,  is  no  fable  in  the  skin.  Such  a  provision  is  indispensable 
where  the  walls  are  feelings,  and  act  as  checktakers  to  whatever 
goes  in  or  comes  out. 

But  are  our  communications  to  the  atmosphere  limited  to  pro- 
ducts which  the  senses  can  perceive,  whether  in  small  quantities  or 
volumes,  in  vapors  or  fluids?  This  question,  not  answered  anato- 
mically, is  decided  in  the  affirmative  by  broad  facts,  fertile  of  con- 
sequences. What  are  those  influences  that  carry  contagion  over 
great  spaces  from  skin  to  skin,  and  which  no  eye,  or  microscope,  or 


THE  TRANSPIRATIONS.  263 

analysis  bath  seen,  notwithstanding  that  they  are  irresistible  min- 
isters of  disease  and  death  ?  What  are  those  odors  proceeding 
from  the  skin,  by  which  the  exorbitant  sense  of  the  wild  Indian 
tracks  the  footsteps  of  his  victim  over  the  long  flight  of  a  diversi- 
fied country  ?  What  aroma  shed  upon  the  earth,  and  stiffer  than 
the  sweeping  wind,  is  the  guide  of  the  bloodhound  and  other 
instinctive  hunters,  to  the  distant  quarry  which  they  seek  ?  The 
footprints  of  the  skin,  have  they  not  modified  by  subtle  sheddings 
the  very  ground  and  stones  where  the  tread  has  been  ?  And  how 
far,  and  how  long,  does  the  magic  work  from  those  scheming  life- 
like centres  ?  Nay  more,  we  appeal  to  mesmerism,  and  we  ask  what 
it  is,  proceeding  from  the  operator's  body  to  the  patient,  that  spell- 
binds every  sense,  or  produces  the  play  whereby  the  automaton 
sleeper  is  set  in  motion,  and  set  in  thought,  at  the  bidding  of  an- 
other's brain.  Clearly  it  is  no  perspiration  in  an  ordinary  sense  ; 
it  takes  effect  through  obstacles  too  great ;  yet  as  clearly  it  proceeds 
from  the  surface  of  one  frame,  and  is  received  by  the  surface  of 
another  j  in  short,  it  goes  from  skin  to  skin.  These  facts  conclude, 
that  through  certain  channels  occult  to  the  microscope,  quite  un- 
known to  anatomy,  but  assured  by  our  babe  and  suckling  common 
sense,  the  skin,  or  the  nervous  system  through  it,  pours  forth  a  sub- 
tle radiation  of  tremendous  efficacy  on  other  organic  creatures. 
They  render  it  evident  that  through  this  battery  of  surfaces,  the 
animal  creation,  and  man  most  of  all,  is  constantly  impressing  a 
character  upon  external  nature,  literally  magnetizing  it,  and  produc- 
ing we  know  not  what  modifications  and  new  forms  in  its  plastic 
matrices.  It  were  foolish  to  suppose  that  emanations  which  en- 
gender such  changes  in  those  delicate  tests,  organic  beings,  have 
been  powerless  to  alter  dead  things  in  the  ages  that  have  elapsed 
since  first  organic  life,  bent  thenceforth  upon  multiplication  and 
dominion,  sprang  from  the  seminary  of  the  original  earth.  Led 
in  this  train  of  thought,  philosophers  have  suspected,  that  the  tigers, 
lions  and  snakes,  and  other  ugly  foes  not  seemingly  of  our  house- 
hold, were  at  first  but  the  wind-cast  seedlings  of  our  passions, 
wicked  words  overheard  and  dramatized  by  nature,  returning  now 
from  we  know  not  whither  to  plague  the  inventors ;  though  doubt- 
less men  will  be  slow  to  own  such  children  as  these. 


264  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

What  deduction  is  to  be  drawn  from  the  above  statement,  shown 
to  be  a  fact  by  such  gross  proofs?  We  claim  it  in  confirmation  of 
the  existence  of  a  manifold  nervous  fluid  ;  for  the  subtle  exhalations 
we  have  been  acknowledging,  pass  through  space,  and  from  body  to 
body;  nay,  take  up  a  location,  and  keep  it,  which  would  be  impos- 
sible were  they  not  bodily  themselves.  We  have  therefore  traced 
the  sensible  perspiration  to  the  red  blood,  and  this  influential  radia- 
tion to  the  nervous  system;  and  grasping  these  extremes,  we  may 
put  the  mean  into  its  place,  and  assign  the  insensible  perspiration  to 
the  lymphs  and  colorless  fluids  pervading  the  body.  Here  is  a 
trinity  of  exhalations,  given  off  by  the  nervous  fluid,  the  lymph  or 
white  blood,  and  the  red  blood  respectively;  and  which  are  esta- 
blished by  huge  facts  not  to  be  gainsayed. 

This  gives  new  import  to  the  transpirations  of  the  skin,  for  parti- 
cles constitute  volumes,  and  volumes  are  groups  according  to  laws. 
It  flows  from  the  previous  conclusions,  that  there  is  round  each  man 
an  atmosphere  which  has  a  formal  existence  equally  with  the  inte- 
riors of  his  body.  If  the  organs  underneath  the  skin  be  different  in 
every  part,  and  if  the  blood  be  similarly  various,  then  the  emana- 
tions from  different  tracts  will  exhibit  the  variety  of  their  sources, 
and  the  image  of  the  body  be  stamped  on  its  circumambient  sphere. 
This  spheral  man  environing  the  skin  is  not  without  a  witness  in 
ordinary  sense.  Observe  the  phenomena  of  sympathy  and  antipathy 
manifested  when  certain  persons  come  together,  and  referred  by  com- 
mon observation  to  the  feelings,  and  very  rightly,  for  the  matter 
touches  us  nearly;  and  although  sight  accounts  for  impressions,  yet 
a  residue  of  influence  is  experienced  which  all  will  say  is  not  seen, 
but  felt.  And  mark  the  fear  which  animals  know  when  they  come 
for  the  first  time  into  the  presence  of  their  natural  enemies.  Im- 
pressed by  such  events  and  appearances,  we  recall  the  doctrine  of 
the  microcosm,  nor  slight  the  influences  of  the  sky,  but  recognize  in 
the  sympathetic  friend  some  benign  planet  of  our  destiny;  or  in  the 
repulsive  presence  of  others,  the  malignant  rays  of  an  evil  star.  For 
as  there  is  no  vacuum  in  the  outward  world,  so  there  is  none  in  the 
human  world,  but  all  mankind  touch  each  other,  and  form  again  a 
globe;  the  grand  sphere  of  all  individual  spheres.  One  use  there- 
fore, and  perhaps  the  greatest  use  of  the  emanations  of  the  skin,  is, 


THE  RADIATIONS.  265 

that  we  may  be  instinctively  known  and  knowing,  and  bring  witb  us 
our  own  groundwork  of  sympathies  and  antipathies,  whereby  to  find 
and  maintain  our  places,  according  to  the  old  laws,  of  cohesion, 
attraction  and  repulsion.  For  what  is  true  in  the  mineral  kingdom, 
is  only  more  and  differently  true  in  the  human. 

We  are  accustomed  indeed  to  think  of  the  transpirations  as  not 
only  effete,  but  unclean.  Yet  there  is  certainly  one  honorable  sweat, 
namely,  that  which  stands  beaded  on  the  brow  of  toil.  Little  chil- 
dren too  are  of  a  sweet  savor  to  their  mothers,  "as  the  smell  of  a 
field  which  Jehovah  has  blessed."  Lovers  also  dwell  in  a  common 
atmosphere  of  purpureal  satisfactions.  The  redolence  of  health  it- 
self is  like  fresh  morning  air  to  those  that  meet  it.  History  more- 
over gives  cases  of  persons  whose  presence  was  pleasantly  aromatic. 
It  belongs  indeed  to  the  skin  to  rid  the  system  of  particles  outworn 
in  its  service,  but  these  are  not  necessarily  foul,  but  simply  the  dead 
forms  of  the  same  principles  which  are  living  forms  in  the  organs. 
Inanimation  does  not  imply  uncleanness,  but  rather  the  consolida- 
tion of  a  new  universe  inferior  to  life.  It  is  the  body  as  influenced 
by  perverse  passions  and  habits  from  generation  to  generation,  that 
makes  our  legitimate  spheres  into  noisome  sweats,  and  the  radiations 
of  our  minds,  actively  repulsive.  If  the  rose  or  the  lily  could  be 
gluttonous  or  covetous,  lewd  or  hating,  the  third  generation  of  them 
would  give  out  stenches.  It  is  the  inner  world  that  exalts,  or  con- 
taminates, the  outer;  and  the  purity  of  the  soul  in  the  body  would 
add  a  thousand  perfumes  to  the  air,  and  a  manifold  attraction  of  fine 
sympathies  to  the  instinctive  understanding.  At  present  the  rule 
of  tolerable  scents  ascends  no  higher  than  the  flowers ;  the  perfume 
of  good  and  true  men  is  an  incense  both  prophesied  and  possible. 

But  the  whole  of  the  transpirations  do  not  consist  of  effete  mate- 
rials. We  feel  on  the  other  hand  that  life  is  surrounded  by  life; 
that  a  man's  outposts  extend  beyond  his  skin,  and  convey  his  feel- 
ings by  their  emissaries  to  our  own.  Spheres  touch  before  skins. 
Judging  by  the  analogy  of  the  saliva,  which  comes  out  of  its  organs 
alive,  and  returns  back  thither  after  a  circuit,  we  deduce  that  the 
transpirations  are  not  primarily  dead,  but  leave  the  body  for  a  space, 
to  revert  to  it  with  fresh  supplies  won  from  the  atmosphere  in  their 
journey.  Man  in  every  sense  can  travel  out  of  himself  with  profit 
23 


266  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

and  interest.  He  drives  not  only  trade,  but  commerce,  with  the 
surrounding  natures.  His  atoms  have  the  benefit  of  seeing  foreign 
parts,  and  bring  home  new  fashions.  Are  there  not  also  currents 
or  winds  in  the  human  sphere,  whereby  clouds,  drawn  from  one  part 
of  the  surface,  are  drafted  to  other  places,  to  descend  with  refresh- 
ment thereupon?  for  what  is  dead  in  the  view  of  the  face  or  chest, 
may  be  living  enough  for  the  belly  and  the  limbs. 

We  therefore  see  reason  to  divide  the  transpirations  into  active 
and  passive,  or  into  sweats  and  radiations,  the  former  of  which  gra- 
vitate and  fall,  but  the  latter  are  permanent  and  creative.  In  treat- 
ing of  the  lungs  we  made  a  similar  division,  into  breaths  and  spirits, 
or  into  bodily  and  purposeless  respiration,  and  into  spirited  breathing. 
And  the  same  remark  applies  to  every  system  with  greater  or  lesser 
exceptions.  But  this  belongs  to  a  new  psychology  founded  on  com- 
mon observations,  and  which  shows  that  heart  touches  heart  with 
magnetic  fingers,  and  indeed  that  organisms  are  linked  to  their  simi- 
lar parts  by  sympathetic  columns  of  emanations.  The  reason  of  this 
is,  that  the  soul  is  not  only  included  in  but  also  includes  the  body, 
or  not  only  lives  beyond  the  brain,  but  also  beyond  the  skin;  being 
the  omega  as  it  is  the  alpha  of  the  microcosm. 

In  Chapter  II.  we  dwelt  at  some  length  on  the  ensoulment  of  the 
breaths,  and  here  we  might  show,  did  space  permit,  that  each  exter- 
nization*  or  excretion  that  we  make  is  a  similar  spirit-carrier.  The 
sweats  are  no  exceptions  to  the  rule.  In  faintness  whether  born  of 
fear  or  pain,  the  sweat  is  mortal  cold,  for  the  life  has  left  it  prema- 
turely. In  low  animal  passions  the  sweat  is  hircine,  to  suit  the  goat 
who  owns  it.  And  so  forth.  The  range  is  as  great  as  it  is  subtle. 
It  extends  from  the  shininess  of  oozy  monk  and  stall-fed  prelate,  to 
the  glory-rim  around  the  saints,  and  again  to  the  crucifixion  before 
the  crucifixion,  the  Master's  agony-sweat  as  of  great  drops  of  blood 
in  the  garden  of  Gethsemane. 


*  The  externizalion  of  things  amounts  to  anew  essence  in  them,  whereby 
they  become  distinct  objects,  not  only  to  other  beings,  but  often  to  themselves.  The 
difference  between  a  foetus  and  a  child  is  externizalion  acting  upon  a  capable 
organism.  Emanation,  therefore,  where  it  is  an  emanation  of  life,  differences 
itself,  or  beettuse  a  fresh  object,  at  each  successive  elongation  from  its  source. 
But  this  for  the  metaphysical. 


THE  BIG  PORES.  267 

Perspiration  then  is  not  only  purification,  but  emission,  and  ema- 
nation or  creation.  We  now  proceed  to  the  other  half  of  the  sub- 
ject— to  the  renewal  of  the  body  through  its  cutaneous  surface 
from  the  external  world,  or  its  reception  of  fluids  and  exhalations 
from  without.  And  first  for  the  fact  It  is  proved  by  the  absorp- 
tion of  medicated  substances  when  rubbed  upon  the  skin  ;  by  the 
relief  of  thirst,  the  increase  of  weight,  and  the  nutrition  of  the 
body,  when  plunged  in  baths  of  water,  or  of  alimentitious  fluids ; 
by  increase  of  weight  from  the  air  itself,  during  sleep,  as  well  as 
at  other  times,  and  which  cannot  be  accounted  for  by  the  food 
taken;  also  by  the  phenomena  of  sympathy  and  antipathy,  and  by 
the  effects  of  mesmerism ;  and  in  short  by  the  same  evidences  that 
attest  the  cutaneous  exhalation.  There  is  then  a  parallel  of  giving 
and  taking;  the  man  and  the  world  cross  hands;  the  exchanges 
are  balanced  between  the  skin  of  the  body  and  the  skin  of  the 
planet,  the  atmosphere  being  their  market ;  the  spirit,  lymph,  and 
blood  modify  nature  by  their  sphere ;  and  nature  by  hers  constitutes 
their  circumstances  and  supports  their  reactions.  This  is  also 
shown  by  the  organic  effects  of  climate,  and  by  the  geographical 
colorings  and  other  differences  of  the  skin.  The  rule  here  is,  that 
as  the  atmospheres,  as  well  as  the  earth,  environ  the  skin,  the 
latter  is  natively  adequate  to  avail  itself  of  their  wealth,  whether 
ponderable  or  imponderable,  and  to  feed  its  own  system  with  what- 
ever is  inferiorly  organic,  or  earthy,  watery,  airy,  gaseous  or 
ethereal.  In  short  the  skin  man  is  a  sponge  immersed  in  nature's 
plenum,  and  soaking  us  through,  soul-deep,  with  the  substantial 
properties  of  every  medium. 

This  which  is  established  by  facts,  and  afterwards  appears  self- 
evident,  is  the  point  whence  to  start  in  unraveling  the  texture  of 
the  skin ;  common  sense  being  the  way  to  uncommon  sense.  In 
this  texture  there  are  several  kinds  of  fibres  that  are  unaccounted 
for ;  the  microscope  has  done  its  best,  yet  they  are  known  but  as 
threads,  of  different  colors  and  varying  elasticity.  Are  they  not 
conduits  of  some  reasonable  stuff  to  the  frame  ?  Are  the  primary 
fibres  impervious,  the  dams  and  hindrances  of  motion,  spoiling  its 
current  by  their  inadmissive  contractedness  ?  Truth  is  shocked  at 
the  supposition,  and  answers  that  nature,  the  deeper  and  smaller 


268  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

she  becomes,  is  the  roomier  in  accommodation  for  her  essences, 
which  are  only  represented  in  the  fluids.  It  is  abusing  the  micro- 
scope to  imagine  that  it  can  sound  the  depth  of  any  structure  : 
honest  sight  is  deeper  than  the  microscope  j  for  we  see  on  the  broad 
canvas  of  space,  effects  which  point  to  properties  that  no  lens  can 
verify. 

But  the  truth  is  that  nature  is  more  considerate  than  our  science, 
and  she  places  somewhere  in  every  system  one  or  more  big  facts  to 
show  her  designs.  These  are  her  maternal  "great  A  and  bouncing 
B,"  her  picturesque  alphabet,  intended  to  be  learnt  by  implicit 
rote  before  anything  else.  Too  often  however  we  begin  at  the  end 
of  her  grammar,  and  never  find  this  alphabet  j  and  can  but  timidly 
copy  her  forms,  without  the  power  to  spell  much  less  to  read  them. 
Now  what  is  the  largest  pore  in  the  skin  ?  Without  hesitation, 
the  mouth,  which  shows  us,  by  an  unmicroscopic  exhibition,  that 
the  whole  skin  feeds  upon  terrestrial  elements,  solid  and  fluid. 
What  are  the  next  pores?  Plainly  the  nostrils  and  ears,  the 
purveyors  of  the  atmosphere  and  its  motions.  And  what  do  these 
cutaneous  orifices  declare  but  the  universal  aeration  of  the  body  by 
the  surface  in  which  they  are  constituted  ?  But  is  there  an  opening 
for  the  ether  ?  Undoubtedly  two — in  the  eyes,  where  the  mind 
stands  face  to  face  with  the  world,  and  the  world  with  the  mind. 
This  is  sight,  which  permeates  the  closed  windows  of  the  cornea,  and 
sees  that  there  are  pores  above  the  microscope,  and  that  the  universe 
can  come  in  to  us  when  the  doors  are  shut.  Those  ether  wells,  the 
eyes,  are  the  naked  truths  of  a  whole  humanity  of  similar  orifices 
whose  lids  conceal  them  in  other  parts  of  the  skin.  If  these  deduc- 
tions be  too  strange,  we  ask  then,  do  not  we  interpret  other  things 
by  their  leading  facts  ?  And  what  is  our  knowledge  of  the  world 
but  the  knowledge  of  its  faces  and  its  heads  ? 

But  upon  this  subject  of  the  appropriations  of  the  skin,  we  cau- 
tion ourselves  that  the  life  of  each  part  seeks  and  takes  the  kinsmen 
of  the  part,  and  no  other  things.  The  lungs  or  air  organs  breathe 
air,  gas,  whatever  ascends  from  the  solid  into  the  void,  or  tends  to 
enlarge  itself  or  to  breathe.  The  stomach  eats  whatever  is  eatable ; 
it  fructifies  fruit  of  every  order,  or  puts  the  material  finish  to  that 
process  by  which  nature  is  eaten  and  digested  until  it  comes  up  to 


THE  SELF-POSSESSION  OF  THE  SKIN.  269 

mankind.  So  again,  skins  are  the  proper  object  of  the  skin ;  for 
this  system  skims  the  world,  takes  a  film  for  itself  from  every  sur- 
face, and  assumes  the  cream  of  body  as  the  matter  of  the  sense  of 
touch.  This  sense  is  the  essence  or  single  substance  of  the  skin, 
which  clothes  the  mind  and  the  organism  with  the  personable  out- 
sides  of  things.  We  are  not  then  to  think  any  longer  of  assimila- 
tion as  a  formula  in  treating  of  the  skin  from  its  own  point  of  view ; 
for  we  have  left  assimilation  behind  in  the  stomach.  It  is  the  exter- 
nal apposition  and  mutual  feeling  of  the  parts  which  alone  belong 
to  the  skin. 

"We  do  not  however  dwell  upon  the  sense  of  touch  or  the  pleasures 
of  the  skin,  for  we  are  not  yet  treating  of  the  senses,  but  of  the 
bodily  organs.  Only  let  us  remember  that  the  armies  of  the  papil- 
lae, encamped  in  force  upon  the  frontier  wherever  great  sensation  is 
wanted,  and  everywhere  posted,  spaced  and  grouped  for  watchful- 
ness and  protection,  are  armies  of  industry  also,  being  to  their 
adjacent  pores  what  the  hands  are  to  the  mouth.  They  are  exqui- 
sitely quick,  attentive  and  manipulative,  and  can  help  the  skin  to 
what  it  may  feel,  or  warn  it  against  destructions  or  irritations,  with 
an  agency  more  discriminating  than  our  consciousness.  But  the 
mind  acts  with  great  force  upon  the  skin  through  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, and  depressing  emotions  playing  upon  the  surface,  'destroy  its 
equilibrium,  damp  its  courage,  throw  it  off  its  guard,  and  cause  it 
to  let  in  the  emanations  of  disease.  Hence  during  fear  the  papil- 
lae desert  their  posts,  and  contagion  invades  us.  On  the  other  hand, 
the  might  of  life  is  similarly  transferable  to  the  skin,  which  thus 
encouraged,  walks  the  pest-house  unharmed,  and  feels  virtues  like 
its  own  in  the  poisons. 

Nor  must  we  forget  the  motion  of  the  skin,  with  which  we  are 
familiar  in  the  breathing.  Our  feelings  of  the  universality  of 
respiration  are  the  running  accompaniments  of  the  universal  respi- 
ration of  the  skin.  Under  this,  its  constant  movement,  its  other 
movements  are  performed.  The  sympathy  of  sense  between  it  and 
the  lungs  is  close  :  the  same  air  and  temperature  bathes  them 
both,  and  the  winter  that  narrows  the  desires  of  breath,  contracts 
the  skin  to  fit  the  diminished  visceral  spheres.  The  air  and  earth 
of  the  microcosm  both  lessen  together,  and  both  expand  together 

23* 


270  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

under  kindlier  seasons.  The  expansion  of  the  breathing  skin  is 
the  enlargement  of  every  pore  of  the  lung  order,  and  causes  the 
absorption  of  the  various  influences  in  which  the  skin  is  plunged. 
This  is  the  active  cause  of  the  sympathy  of  the  skin  with  the  air 
and  the  powers  that  it  contains.  The  state  of  the  mind  or  the 
animation  of  the  brain  and  nerves  is  in  like  manner  concerned  in 
the  relation  that  the  skin  holds  to  those  parts  of  nature  which  lie 
above  the  air. 

Thus  the  skin  is  a  natural  balancer  of  temperature,  because  it  is 
the  medium  between  two  fires — those,  namely,  of  the  body  and  the 
sun.  It  is  a  remarkable  circumstance  indicating  the  self-possession 
of  the  body,  that  its  heat  varies  but  little  with  climate,  or  the  sea- 
sons. Standing  at  about  100  degrees  of  Fahrenheit,  it  repulses  the 
equatorial  fervor,  and  the  northmost  cold.  Undoubtedly  this  is  due 
in  the  last  place  to  the  mettle  and  temper  of  the  skin.  It  sprinkles 
its  heated  envelope  of  atmospheres  with  abundant  vapors,  cooling  as 
they  rise ;  for  the  supply  of  which  our  thirst  is  commanded  in  the 
sultry  hours  :  on  the  other  hand,  when  the  outside  weather  is  incle- 
ment, and  winter  howls,  the  skin  fastens  up  its  infinite  shutter-work, 
and  the  fires  are  fed  with  liberal  materials,  which  then  must  be  taken 
according  to  hunger,  which  prescribes  the  fuel. 

The  skin  then  suitably,-  or  sensibly,  gives  out  and  takes  in  what 
it  requires,  this  being  the  sum  and  substance  of  inhalation,  exhala- 
tion, and  the  intermediate  touch ;  and  the  sphere  surrounding  the 
skin  serves  as  a  medium  to  attemper,  humanize,  and  convey  to  the 
body  the  forces  of  the  external  world  j  much  as  the  atmospheres  re- 
ceive the  rays  of  the  sun,  and  convey  them  to  the  planet. 

Whither  does  the  skin  go  ?  or  where  does  it  end  ?  It  may  be  said 
that  it  is  continuous  with  itself,  and  ends  nowhere,  as  it  begins  no- 
where. True,  but  it  is  more  circular  than  this.  For  besides  that 
it  covers  the  whole  body,  it  passes  in  along  the  great  thoroughfares, 
only  assuming  a  thinner  and  moist  surface,  and  constitutes  the  lin- 
ing of  the  nostrils,  the  windpipe  and  the  lungs ;  it  also  enters  by  the 
mouth  into  the  alimentary  canal,  and  therefrom  into  the  depths  of 
the  liver  and  the  pancreas ;  and  by  other  ways  into  other  viscera, 
and  into  all  the  glands.  These  are  its  highroads ;  as  for  its  private 
paths,  they  are  innumerable.     It  passes  down  every  hair-follicle, 


THE  GEOGRAPHICAL  SKIN.  271 

and  by  the  cuticle  to  the  tip  of  every  hair;  it  runs  along  each  per- 
spiratory gland  and  oil  gland,  through  the  eight-and-twenty  miles  of 
our  ingenious  surveyor ;  and  next  through  every  pore  of  every  sieve- 
like blood-vessel  along  the  sanguineous  system,  and  along  the  lym- 
phatic system ;  over  levels  which  no  anatomical  quadrant  has  taken, 
and  through  a  mileage  which  wants  another  surveyor  still ;  in  short 
it  ranges  through  brain  and  body  wherever  anything  touches  any- 
thing, and  where  consequently  a  sense  of  touch  and  a  skin  are  indis- 
pensable.* 

So  much  for  the  altitude  of  the  skin,  or  its  penetrancy  body-deep, 
and  its  rise  brain-high.  But  the  surface  of  the  organic  miracle,  its 
means  of  display,  are  not  less  remarkable.  The  plummet  line  that 
finds  no  soundings  is  matched  in  the  lines  of  sight,  which  meet  a 
constant  horizon,  but  never  a  shore.  Awe  stands  giddy  over  the 
chasms  of  the  soul ;  amazement  heaving  with  joy,  finds  and  loses 
itself  moment  by  moment,  at  the  prospect  of  the  landscapes  of  the 
never-ending  life.     The  skin  is  as  broad  as  it  is  high. 

The  geographical  or  regional  consideration  of  the  skin,  to  which 
we  are  now  pointing,  is  capable  of  being  pursued  in  different  ways. 
It  may  be  followed  literally,  and  the  diversities  of  skin  traced  in 
nations  and  races  in  different  parts  of  the  globe  -,  looking  on  the 
earth  itself  as  clothed  with  men  as  with  a  coat  of  many  colors.  Or 
it  may  be  traced  over  the  individual  body,  where  it  exhibits  a  scale 
of  varieties,  minute  indeed,  but  apparently  as  exhaustless  as  in 
humanity  itself.  Let  us  briefly  advert  to  each  of  these  depart- 
ments. 

In  all  races  of  mankind  the  corium  or  true  skin  is  white ;  the 
difference  of  hue  residing  in  the  other  layers.  Blumenbach  reckons 
five  general  varieties  of  color ;  the  white  or  Caucasian ;  the  yellow 

*  The  presence  of  skin  in  the  body  is  the  double  of  the  presence  of  feeling, 
which  is  skin-function,  in  the  mind ;  and  as  feeling  is  cointensive  with  life,  skin 
is  coextensive  with  bodily  structure.  Feeling  however  subsists  in  different 
powers  and  degrees  so  dissimilar  to  each  other,  that  no  boldness  short  of  com- 
mon sense  dare  call  by  the  same  general  word  the  sentiment  of  duty,  or  love, 
and  the  sense  of  wamth,  or  resistance ;  all  of  which,  however,  are  rightly  de- 
signated feelings.  It  requires  the  same  boldness,  and  no  more,  to  denominate 
the  membranes  of  the  pia  mater  by  the  name  skin,  which  signifies  the  general 
envelope  of  the  frame. 


272  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

or  Mongolian  j  the  red,  copper-colored,  or  American  ;  the  brown  or 
Malaic;  and  the  black  or  Ethiopian.  In  each  of  these  classes  the 
general  varieties  are  again  repeated.  Thus  the  European  skin  em- 
braces the  swarthy  Italian  and  the  fair  Swede ;  and  the  English 
ranges  in  a  lesser  compass  through  the  same  shades  from  the  blonde 
to  the  brunette.  What  is  the  cause  of  the  great  difference  in  the 
color  of  our  skins  ?  One  cause  is,  that  variety  is  the  child  of  nature, 
and  coextensive  with  existence.  But  why  should  the  variety  run 
from  white  to  black,  rather  than  play  through  the  infinitude  of  white- 
ness with  all  coloration  and  enrichment  ?  What  produces  hues  re- 
pulsive between  races  of  brothers,  and  why  does  nature  char  and 
begrime  her  offspring  ?  Is  it  merely  that  the  sun  "  will  keep  baking, 
broiling  on  V  Not  altogether;  for  in  that  case  the  inhabitants  of 
equal  levels  in  the  tropics,  would  be  as  uniform  belts  of  colored 
tribes  around  the  globe  j  which  is  not  the  fact.  The  reason  is  more 
complex.  The  true  whiteness  of  the  skin  would  signify  the  equili- 
brium between  the  light  and  heat  of  the  man,  and  the  light  and  heat 
of  the  sun,  which  were  they  balanced,  the  face  would  be  a  transpa- 
rent panoply,  reflecting  both  the  spirit  and  the  world,  and  self-de- 
fended against  the  invasive  subtlety  of  the  solar  rays.  If  the  light 
of  life  were  there,  the  skin  would  bleach  into  more  resistless  white- 
ness in  the  burning  noon-day,  light  living  upon  light,  and  energy 
upon  energy;  the  brave  life  would  stand  with  gleaming  shields  upon 
the  extremest  ramparts  of  the  cuticle.  At  present,  however,  in 
the  black  man's  skin,  his  darkness  eats  up  the  light,  in  order  to 
effect  the  balance.  The  sable  rete  of  the  Ethiopian  is  an  organism 
that  by  its  relation  to  light  and  heat,  absorbs  the  fierceness  of  the 
sun  without  making  claim  upon  the  nervous  energy;  and  does  by 
a  fixed  or  unsightly  circumstance  what  life  would  effect  by  its  own 
witty  heroism.  His  poor  body  cannot  help  being  burnt,  and  kindly 
nature  has  strewn  it  with  coal  fields  for  the  purpose.  No  wonder 
that  his  color  is  a  felt  degradation,  for  it  is  the  police  of  weak-eyed 
and  waxen  virtues,  that  would  melt  under  the  fierceness  of  his  skies. 
With  respect  to  the  other  skins,  red,  yellow,  brown  and  pied,  all 
rising  to  their  own  blackness,  they  are  to  be  regarded  as  separate  or- 
ganizations, or  as  so  many  intelligent  resources  for  maintaing  rea- 
sonable terms  between  the  tyrannical  strength  of  nature  and  the 


THE  GEOGRAPHICAL  SKIN.  273 

enfeebled  life  of  man  ;  and  in  general  the  rainbow  of  human  skins 
is  a  divine  signal  against  these  floods  of  the  sun.  The  power  of 
climatization  is  measured  very  much  by  the  ability  of  the  skin  to 
stand  up  for  itself,  or  else  to  take  on  the  restored  balance  that  color 
produces  between  the  surface  and  outward  influences.  The  colored 
parts  in  each  instance  appear  to  be  a  distinct  tribal  organization,  re- 
quired in  different  shades  and  proportions  by  various  races  under 
the  same  sky  3  for  there  is  nothing  to  make  it  probable  that  the 
English  skin  for  instance,  place  it  under  the  line  for  a  number  of 
generations,  would  assume  the  jettiness  of  the  Negro,  or  the  tawny 
shade  of  the  Malay.*  We  may  therefore  see  that  among  the  causes 
that  have  led  to  the  present  distribution  of  races,  the  relative  life  of 
the  skin  is  one ;  and  that  certain  tribes  would  instinctively  move 
down  the  sides  of  the  planet,  until  they  found  the  spot  where  the 
slanted  sun-beams  were  dilute  enough  to  befriend,  and  not  injure, 
their  undefended  skins ;  the  flaming  sword  behind  chasing  them 
away  to  more  frigid  destinies  as  their  loves  waxed  fainter.  And  in- 
deed the  light  and  heat  are  continually  operating  in  all  great  migra- 
tions, from  the  east  to  the  west,  and  now  from  the  west  to  the  east; 
much  as  the  same  causes  in  nature  produce  winds  and  currents, 
which  are  inanimate  migrations.f 

*  The  clothing  of  the  different  races  is  significant,  relatively  to  the  present 
state  and  future  prospects  of  our  skins.  Under  the  line,  where  the  rule  of  the 
skin  is  blackness  and  also  thickness,  we  clothe  in  white  and  light  garments  ;  in 
the  temperate  regions,  in  dark  woolen  clothes.  Showing  that  opposite  condi- 
tions to  those  of  the  skin,  are  sought  in  the  clothing.  Were  the  skin  able  to 
keep  its  own  balance,  it  would  be  what  the  clothing  now  is,  whitest  at  the 
equator,  and  darker  where  greater  heat  is  wanted,  and  where  less  bleaching 
power  is  given. 

f  We  see  remains  of  the  migratory  principle  by  which  the  world  has  been 
peopled,  and  which  has  forced  the  races  to  quit  the  fairest  spots,  and  to  move 
onwards,  often  into  comparatively  inhospitable  regions,  in  the  fact  that  many 
persons  are  born  out  of  their  health's  latitude,  and  cannot  live  in  our  English 
climate,  but  are  sent  away  to  Madeira,  Italy,  the  South  of  France,  or  Australia, 
where  they  can  continue  an  existence  which  would  be  early  extinguished  here. 
What  was  once  the  rule  of  races  happens  now  with  individuals,  and  that  excep- 
tionally :  yet  as  it  goes  on  from  all  countries,  it  amounts  to  the  collection  of  new 
races  destined  to  be  united  in  the  amity  of  new  mother  climates.  The  develop- 
ment of  a  human  race  is  like  that  of  a  human  body.  At  first  its  parts  are  movable, 
and  are  not  born  in  the  places  which  they  are  subsequently  to  occupy  :  emigra- 


274  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

Passing  from  the  geography  to  the  hierarchy  of  the  skin,  from  its 
planetary  to  its  social  developments,  we  find  that  the  skins  of  the 
extreme  classes  of  society  differ  as  much  as  the  classes  themselves. 
The  horny  hand  of  labor  represents  a  prevailing  texture  of  the  sur- 
face, which  exposure  to  the  air,  coarse  exercise,  the  sweats  of  toil, 
and  the  quality  of  the  bread  of  toil;  in  a  word,  every  circumstance 
connected  with  the  lower  classes,  tends  to  produce  and  perpetuate. 
Their  complexions  are  those  of  the  brawny  limbs  of  society.  The 
present  is  ever  a  magnified  time;  the  past  and  the  future  are  com- 
pressed; and  the  pores  and  fibres  are  large  that  work  upon  the  pre- 
sent, and  deal  with  the  rude  exaggeration  of  our  immediate  wants. 
The  upper  classes  are  closer  knit  and  finer  surfaced,  and  breeding  is 
unsuccessful,  if  it  does  not  alter  the  skin.  You  do  not  see  the  details 
of  their  bodies,  or  criticize  their  timbers,  but  they  come  before  you 
with  a  whole  front  at  once. 

The  skin  also  exhibits  the  phenomena  of  sex  with  its  own  cha- 
racteristic openness,  concealing  and  revealing  according  to  the  eldest 
modesty  of  nature.  Softness  and  strength  are  married  in  the  male 
and  feminine  skins,  and  sense  and  sensibility  are  completed  in  that 
union.  The  woman  is  finer  grained,  to  constitute  a  permanent  aris- 
tocracy— so  much  of  humanity  as  nature  can  keep  without  coarse 
drudging  in  the  world.  She  works  her  feelings  by  fleet  algebra  in 
spaces  less  than  our  knowledge,  while  we  swelter  behind,  learned 
porters,  carrying  cumbrous  slatefuls  of  figures.  It  is  because  her 
skin  is  deeper,  more  vital  or  as  it  were  visceral;  a  sweeter  trembling 
nakedness  as  of  a  soul  stripped  of  one  earthy  covering  to  show  what 
its  mode  and  doings  are  when  the  hood  of  flesh  is  gone.  For  this 
natural  reason,  and  many  other  reasons,  women  are  sometimes  called 
angels.  This  sexual  difference  of  the  skin  is  the  sign  of  such  a 
difference  reigning  throughout  the  organism,  for  the  means  are  car- 
ried in  the  extremes;  and  as  the  soul  is  coordinate  with  the  body, 

tion  therefore  is  a  distinct  branch  of  embryology  :  and  even  at  a  late,  or  what  we 
may  call  the  historical  period  of  the  frame,  some  great  changes  occur  :  the  testes 
for  instance  emigrate  from  their  hot  birthplace  under  the  kidneys  to  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  pole  in  the  scrotum.  Moreover,  the  opening  out  and  stretching 
of  the  infant  man  at  birth  amounts  to  the  elongation  of  his  feet  from  his  head  to 
the  greatest  possible  degree. 


THE  SOCIAL  AND  SEXUAL  SKINS.  275 

the  common  sense  of  the  skin  proclaims  the  existence  of  sex  in  the 
soul,  where  the  laws  of  diversity  and  union  become  also  extended. 

Again  the  single  skin  is  suited  in  constitution  and  color  to  the 
part  that  it  covers,  and  to  its  function  in  every  place.  Where  great 
resistance  is  demanded,  as  on  the  heel,  or  in  the  palm,  the  cuticle, 
no  longer  thin,  becomes  a  dense  and  almost  horny  pad;  and  in  short, 
it  sympathizes  with  our  occupations  and  habits,  presenting  an  open 
declaration  of  the  statesmanship  of  the  body ;  for  if  there  be  this 
power  of  wise  change  in  the  scurf  of  the  skin,  what  is  there  not  in 
the  depth  of  the  system  and  in  the  senate  of  the  brain !  So  also 
the  reticulum  varies  with  the  latitudes  and  longitudes  of  the  person, 
being  greatest  where  the  sensibility  is  greatest,  as  over  the  hands, 
and  upon  the  tongue.  The  papillae  also  are  various  everywhere,  and 
peculiarly  grouped;  multitudinous  where  feeling  is  quick  and  fre- 
quent; almost  indiscernible  in  other  parts.  The  corium  too  is  thick 
and  thin,  and  differently  woven,  as  utility  desires.  In  short  the  in- 
dividual skin  brings  us  back  again  to  the  social  and  geographical; 
it  too  runs  from  coarseness  to  fineness,  from  whiteness  to  shadow, 
from  life  to  dullness ;  representing  on  one  person  the  skins  of  all 
ranks' and  conditions,  all  seasons  and  zones;  kingly  face-skin  and 
peasant  foot-skins;  swart  patches  of  Ethiopian  dusk,  and  tracts  of 
open  fairness,  as  it  were  temperate  climes. 

Turning  from  the  general  map  of  the  body  to  the  head,  chest  and 
abdomen,  we  observe  that  their  great  divisions  of  skin  modulate 
through  successive  functions.  Over  the  belly,  receptivity  is  the 
leading  oface;  it  sustains  material  distention  for  periods  short  and 
long,  and  recovers  itself  more  or  less.  In  the  skin  covering  the 
chest  there  is  a  higher  elasticity,  fitting  it  for  its  lifelong  reciproca- 
tions; active  strength  is  the  gift  of  the  thoracic  covering,  and  it 
easily  recedes  before  the  filling  breath,  and  then  as  easily  runs  for- 
ward after  the  retreating  lungs.  In  the  head,  all  the  other  functions 
of  the  skin  are  present,  and  capital  functions  superadded.  Besides 
that  the  head-skin  is  mechanically  yielding  and  elastic,  it  is  also 
intellectually  expressive;  it  runs  after  the  changes  of  the  brain, 
faster  than  the  skin  of  the  chest  follows  up  the  alternations  of  the 
lungs.  But  in  robing  the  sovereign  brain,  the  beauty  of  the  organ- 
ism, such  as  it  is;  dwells  in  its  natural  folds,  and  harmony  and  love 


276  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

come  forth  perforce  around  it.  Feature  or  intellectual  form,  active 
fitness,  and  close  continence,  severally  representing  mind,  motion 
and  body,  are  thus  the  three  spirits  of  the  skin,  according  to  the 
three  regions;  and  these  are  the  cornucopia  of  its  uses. 

We  have  said  but  little  upon  one  important  appendage  of  the 
skin,  namely,  the  hair,  which  is  of  a  threefold  kind,  and  is  universal 
over  the  body.  There  is  the  massive  growth  upon  the  scalp,  the 
short  hairs  met  with  in  other  parts,  and  the  invisible  down,  which 
appears  to  exist  everywhere.  We  can  only  remark  that  its  uses 
throughout  are  typified  in  those  of  the  hair  on  the  head.  Warmth, 
clothing,  conduction,  protection,  expression,  beauty — every  hair 
means  them  all.  It  is  also  observable  that  there  is  an  intimate  con- 
nection between  the  hair  and  the  temperament,  and  between  the  hair 
and  the  nervous  system,  and  a  sympathy  between  the  hair  and  the 
mind  in  health  and  disease.  The  narratives  of  fear  turning  the  hair 
white  in  a  single  night,  are  so  well  attested,  that  a  late  clever  writer  on 
the  subject  has  nothing  to  object  beyond  the  "  of  course  it  is  impos- 
sible"  of  his  own  education.  Certain  it  is  that  the  hair  is  a  part  of 
the  man,  and  in  a  broad  sense  comes  from  his  very  nerves.  In  the 
face  of  anatomical  limits,  and  heedless  of  learned  giggling,  whoever 
has  once  felt  the  hair  of  his  flesh  stand  up,  knows  right  well  that 
something  ran  out  of  his  brains  when  the  fright  was  on  his  back. 
Let  the  anatomist  make  a  scalpel  out  of  that  fact,  and  carve  away 
with  it  at  the  hair  follicle,  and  he  will  soon  find  that  every  hair 
carries  a  streamlet  of  his  life. 

The  hair  presents  an  elongation  of  the  qualities  of  the  cuticle, 
and  analyzed  by  the  wearer,  we  see  in  it  the  same  round  world 
again  as  in  the  most  living  organs.  The  moss  and  grass  of  our 
skulls  is  just  like  us.  The  head  is  nature's  king,  and  nature  crowns 
it.  The  essence  passes  into  the  crown,  and  it  represents  the  royalty 
of  the  wearer.  The  manly  forelocks  rise  with  independence  and 
openness,  equally  with  the  forehead  that  they  overshadow.  The 
clustered  curls  of  the  woman  catch  and  benet  with  the  same  witch- 
ery that  glitters  from  her  eyes,  or  fascinates  in  her  smile.  Yea, 
every  state  and  feeling  makes  as  free  with  the  hair  as  fear  itself. 
Low-browed  self  abasement  has  a  straight-haired  head;  its  very 
comb  puts  it  down  by  instinctive  logic  of  correspondences.     Courage 


THE  HAIR.  277 

and  energy  crisp  the  hair  like  wire.  Prolific  and  young-blooded 
races  like  the  Negro,  are  woolly  as  sheep ;  old  and  decaying  tribes, 
such  as  the  American  Indians,  are  lank  and  drooping  in  their  locks. 
Life  throws  the  hair  as  a  substantial  shadow  around  the  principal 
organs,  to  which  it  offers  a  native  contrast,  forming  the  colored 
complement  of  their  grace.  Whatever  shadow  is  required  comes  by 
this  rule  :  red  hair  is  the  contrast  in  keeping  with  one  complexion, 
and  black  hair  with  another.  The  background  is  not  only  itself 
expressive,  but  in  harmony  with  the  portrait  j  the  sun-faced  day  is 
set  and  framed  in  its  own  casket  of  night. 

Did  space  allow,  it  would  here  be  proper  to  make  a  brief  excur- 
sion into  the  wild-wood  nature,  to  note  the  fertility  of  the  skin  as  it 
undulates  over  the  plains  of  animal  existence.  What  is  wonderful, 
that  demure  thing,  the  cuticle,  when  applied  to  lower  lives,  breaks 
into  a  sportiveness  that  amuses  belief.  Scale  in  the  fish,  coil  in  the 
serpent,  feather  in  the  bird,  many-colored  coat  woolly  or  hairy  in 
the  quadruped,  impenetrable  mail  in  the  pachyderm,  it  shows  on  a 
mighty  arena  what  are  its  delicate  and  silent  uses  in  the  human 
body.  But  we  must  not  be  led  into  the  pleasant  ark  of  zoology. 
Suffice  it  however  that  these  properties  are  represented  in  man  also, 
whose  fine  tact,  and  its  sober  instrument,  terminate  in  arts  that  beat 
the  feathered  wing  in  flight,  and  outdo  the  fur  in  warmth,  and  the 
mail  in  protection ;  and  his  model  skin  stands  inwards  unspent  the 
while ;  and  all  is  there  in  its  prolific  source,  which  ifs  doled  out  in 
strict  though  bountiful  measure  to  the  poor  unalterable  animals. 

We  recur,  however,  to  the  function  of  the  skin  as  expressing  the 
mind,  and  as  being,  with  the  Sovereign  Artist  the  canvas  of  the 
beauty  of  the  world.  This  beauty,  they  tell  us  truly,  is  only  skin- 
deep,  but  none  of  them  has  told  what  is  the  depth  of  the  skin.  At 
all  events  it  must  gauge  to  profound  realms,  for  it  brings  the  whole 
man  to  the  surface.  Moreover,  it  is  not  in  fact  made  up  of  two 
layers,  but  cuticle  and  cutis  are  artificial  productions,  conveniences 
of  books,  the  work  of  men's  hands.  The  human  countenance 
especially  is  the  painted  stage  and  natural  robing  room  of  the  soul. 
It  is  no  single,  double  or  triple  dress,  but  wardrobes  of  costumes 
innumerable.  Our  seven  ages  have  their  liveries  there,  of  every 
dye  and  cut  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier  :  ruddy  cheeks,  merry  dim- 
24 


278  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

pies  and  plump  stuffing  for  youth ;  line  and  furrow  for  many- 
thoughted  age ;  carnation  for  the  bridal  morning,  and  heavenlier 
paleness  for  the  new-found  mother.  Masks  are  there  indeed  for 
every  time;  and  tragedy,  comedy,  and  farce  are  positive  nature  in 
the  skin.  Every  shade  of  passion  has  its  mantle  in  that  boudoir. 
All  the  legions  of  desires  and  hopes  have  uniforms  and  badges  there 
at  hand.  It  is  the  loom  where  the  inner  man  weaves  on  the  instant 
the  garment  of  his  mood,  to  dissolve  again  into  current  life  when  the 
hour  or  the  moment  is  past.  There  it  is  that  loves  put  on  its  celestial 
rosy  red,  which  is  its  proper  hue ;  there  lovely  shame  blushes,  and 
mean  shame  looks  earthy;  there  hatred  contracts  its  wicked  white; 
their  jealousy  picks  from  its  own  drawer  its  bodice  of  constant 
green  ;  their  anger  clothes  itself  in  black,  and  despair  in  the  grayness 
of  the  dead  ;  there  hypocrisy  plunders  the  rest,  and  takes  all  their 
dresses  by  turns ;  sorrow  and  penitence  too  have  sackcloth  there ; 
and  genius  and  inspiration  in  immortal  hours,  encinctured  there 
with  the  unsought  ancient  halo,  stand  forth  as  present  spirits  in  the 
supremacy  of  light.  In  a  word,  the  compass  of  human  nature,  as 
it  is  seen  and  felt,  is  all  to  be  referred  to  the  inexhaustible  repre- 
sentations of  the  skin. 

Thus  the  skin  is  the  kingdom  of  show,  for  whatever  is  seen  of 
mankind  is  nothing  else ;  a  proof  of  the  expressiveness  of  a  cover- 
ing which  can  be  the  universal  face.  For  the  skin  is  the  fine  but 
ample  decorum  in  which  the  inward  terminates ;  the  only  thing 
that  is  fit  to  be  seen  either  in  art,  in  nature,  or  in  science.  It  hides 
the  rawness  of  our  curious  fieshwork,  and  reveals  it  anew  as  comely 
and  personal ;  it  gathers  up  thousands  of  nervous  fibres  in  the  speak- 
ing countenance,  and  mingles  the  infinite  colors  of  life  into  a  single 
complexion ;  it  groups  discordant  muscles  in  lovely  or  manly  limbs, 
and  braces  the  unseemly  viscera  into  a  statuesque  humanity,  toning 
and  leveling  the  whole  out  of  its  own  reservoirs  of  temperament. 
And  so  it  is  the  official  presentation,  and  the  bright  honor  of  the 
body.  It  is  sacred  too  in  its  wholeness,  and  blood  lies  under  it 
film-deep,  to  start  forth  red  before  man  and  nature  with  a  divine 
protest  against  its  violation. 

Clothing  or  fallen  decency  comes  forth  from  this  original  source ; 


CLOTHING.  279 

the  art  and  mystery  of  it  is  first  given  in  the  skin.*  The  materials 
of  our  garments  tally  with  its  emanations.  The  linen  is  the  cool 
and  watery  envelope  of  the  body  j  the  cotton  is  the  middle,  or 
earthy;  woolen  and  cloth  are  the  prolongations  of  the  hair,  the 
unctuous  and  the  oily  ;  silks  and  satins,  with  their  metalline  glow 
and  ocular  glancing,  stand  for  the  ether  and  unresting  fire  that 
goes  out  and  in,  and  changes  forever  in  the  eyes  and  countenance 
with  illusive  lustre.  Jewels  and  ornaments  also  are  of  the  brother- 
hood of  the  eyes  and  face,  and  make  dress  into  rank  and  dignity. 
The  costume  of  nations,  sexes,  times  and  events  descends  from  their 
countenances  and  skins.  White  and  scarlet  and  Tyrian  purple  are 
but  their  chromatic  refractions.  The  Persian  scarf,  the  Thibetan 
wool,  England  and  France  with  their  stuffs  and  laces,  China  with 
its  cloth  of  gold,  only  continue  in  measured  movements  the  infinite 
fabric  of  the  weaving  corium.  The  great  first  shuttle  is  human 
nature  still. 

This  skin,  like  all  things  besides,  ascends  by  its  powers  to  other 

*  It  will  be  seen  on  our  principle?,  that  clothes  are  natural  to  the  human  body, 
because  art  is  included  in  our  nature  (p.  135).  and  man,  the  image  of  the  Creator, 
cannot  but  surround  himself  with  those  secondary  creations  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  term  artificial.  Vestments  however  are  as  natural  as  birds'  nests, 
or  birds'  feathers  ;  but  as  they  spring  from  the  nature  of  reason  and  imagination, 
from  the  constructive  faculties  of  mind  instead  of  those  of  body  or  instinct,  they 
are  more  free  and  various  than  animal  clothes.  But  wherever  the  human  form  is, 
in  whatever  world,  the  principle  of  utility  that  commands  the  arts  will  reproduce 
the  vestures  to  the  occasion.  The  productions  of  art  are  in  fact  the  comparative 
anatomy  of  the  human  frame,  as  distinct  from  the  comparative  anatomy  of  the 
animal  frame,  the  procession  of  which  latter  is  exhibited  in  the  kingdoms  of 
nature.  And  the  tendency  and  promise  of  the  true  humanity  is,  a  world  which 
spontaneously  follows  what  Bacon  calls  "  human  uses."  "  Houses  not  made  with 
hands"  are  spoken  of  in  the  Bible  ;  also  garments  that  wax  not  old.  In  the  same 
book  we  learn  that  the  people  of  heaven  are  not  naked,  but  clothed  in  shining 
raiment ;  and  the  Ancient  of  Days  has  "  a  waistcoat  of  white  wool ;"  the  armies 
here  also  are  "  clothed  in  fine  linen,  white  and  clean."  For  if  manis  immortal, 
all  is  immortal — sense,  faculty,  art,  decency ;  and  in  the  more  plastic  world  of 
the  spirit,  the  constructive  powers  realize  instantaneously  and  organically  what 
is  here  the  result  of  the  same  powers  working  through  imperfect  machineries. 
So  much  for  the  naturalness  of  clothes,  whose  forces  and  forms  are  those  of  the 
human  mind,  and  accompany  the  mind  wjthersoever  it  goes.  We  write  this 
note,  because  the  Bible  narratives  are  sometimes  discredited  for  attributing 
investiture  to  the  future  man,  whereas  this  attribution  is  in  harmony  with  com- 
mon sense,  and  the  contrary  is  a  part  of  the  indecent  doctrine,  that  man,  when 
he  dies,  goes  nowhere,  and  has  nothing  on. 


280  THE  IIUMAN  SKIN. 

spheres.  Surfaces,  bonds  and  communications  belong  to  nature  and 
spirit  alike.  Manners  are  a  social  skin,  whereby  our  savageness  is 
hidden  and  compressed,  our  wants  are  tamed  into  shapely  occasions, 
and  the  rules  that  glide  from  man  to  man  fold  and  wrap  individuals 
into  communities,  and  keep  the  warts  of  our  eccentricity  leveled 
down  under  the  common  tone  of  the  time.  Laws  and  bonds  are 
more  penetrating  manners,  as  it  were  the  membranous  politesse  that 
is  binding  upon  the  inward  life.  And  the  arts  that  beautify  our 
estate,  live  and  reside  upon  the  new  extensions  of  human  nature 
formed  by  these  amiable  skins. 

The  universe  also  has  the  cutaneous  principle  throughout,  as  the 
ground  of  its  beauty,  and  the  substantial  theatre  of  its  changes. 
Landscape  and  ocean-scene  are  the  planetary  skin,  and  field,  garden 
and  grove  are  the  expressive  face  that  the  world  upturns  in  grati- 
tude to  its  cultivators.*  Atmosphere,  tides  and  magnetic  lines, 
varied  soils  and  successive  climates,  depth  and  deeper  depth  of 
strata,  enamelled  vastness  of  plant  and  flower,  mutations  of  all  as 
constant  as  heaven  is  constant — these  are  the  natural  family  of  those 
minutiae  of  the  human  frame  with  which  we  have  busied  ourselves 
here.  And  go  where  we  will,  we  cannot  transcend  one  pen-stroke 
of  the  everlasting  order.     The  skin  is  a  truth,  and  omnipresent. 

*  It  would  not  be  difficult  to  run  the  parallel  between  the  human  and  planet- 
ary skins.  The  body  with  its  hard  muscular  surface  is  the  naked  planet,  to  be 
clothed  with  a  skin  that  will  receive  the  sun  by  inviting  but  independent  forms. 
The  soil,  itself  chiefly  of  organic  origin,  is  the  fatty  layer  which  first  covers  in  the 
bare  rocks  and  surfaces,  and  makes  them  mildly  round.  The  network  of  bind- 
ing grass,  the  interlacing  kingdom  of  plants  and  trees,  represents  the  cutis  with 
its  fibrous  coverings.  The  animal  kingdom,  and  man  especially,  is  the  papillary 
layer,  quick,  sentient  and  locomotive,  living  on  the  best  and  most  fertile  parts  of 
the  great  surface.  The  vegetable  kingdom,  as  it  proceeds  from  human  cultiva- 
tion and  through  the  mind  of  man,  is  the  rete  mucosum,  a  world  of  new  growth 
rising  to  the  surface,  and  covering  in  the  rest.  The  universal  mechanism  of  the 
arts,  polishing  everything  externally,  educating  man,  domesticating  animals, 
pruning  and  raising  the  culture  of  plants,  and  conciliating  mineral  or  mechanical 
truth  with  vital  rotundity  and  flexibility,  is  the  varnish  of  the  cuticle,  through 
which  man  and  the  world  are  put  in  their  court  dress  of  beauty,  suitable  to  hold 
the  train  of  light  which  falls  from  the  progressive  sun.  Thus  the  skin  is  a  circu- 
lar vesture,  coming  up  like  a  scarf  from  the  earth  to  wrap  the  shoulders  of  man, 
and  falling  down  again  from  him  in  statelier  folds  towards  the  same  earth.  Its 
ascending  sweep  is  from  the  fat  to  the  central  or  capital  cutis ;  its  descending, 
from  the  cutis  to  the  cuticle. 


THE  UNIVERSAL  SKINS.  281 

Especially  must  it  reign  in  the  intellectual  sphere.  There  it  is  a 
noble  species  of  touch,  allied  to  all  that  is  great  and  solid — no  other 
than  our  common  sense — polished,  inviolate,  sensitive  of  trivialities, 
rejecting  at  once  what  is  antiquated  and  useless,  open  as  day  to 
edification,  reconsidering  many  things  j  the  basis  of  capacity ;  the 
beauty  of  the  emotions ;  the  complexion  of  the  virtues ;  the  con- 
versability  of  the  understanding ;  the  simple  drapery  of  wise  actions. 
This  it  is  which  fosters  the  man,  and  is  the  defence  of  an  immortal 
vesture. 

Let  us,  then,  attend  a  little  more  severely  to  the  correspondences 
of  the  skin  considered  as  a  function  and  principle,  and  elicit  its 
formulas  in  their  main  departments.  In  fulfilling  this  task,  we 
shall  come  to  the  largest  generalizations,  as  the  skin  is  the  general- 
ization of  the  body ;  and  to  self-evident  positions,  because  the  skin 
is  ocular  evidence  of  ourselves.  This  is  the  reason  why  the  present 
chapter  is  descriptive,  for  the  skin  being  scenery,  we  wander  perforce 
around  its  regions,  pencil  in  hand. 

The  outer  skin  of  all  is  space,  whose  face  robes  the  suns,  its 
breast  envelops  the  air,  and  its  belly  overlays  the  terrene  globes;  a 
skin  adapted  to  its  contents ;  space  expressive  to  the  glancing  fire, 
free  space  to  the  atmospheres,  and  fixed  space  to  the  earth.  At  the 
top  the  name  of  space  is  light,  the  countenance  or  beaming  of 
things;  in  the  middle  it  is  expanse,  the  chest  of  the  same ;  and  below 
it  is  extense,  the  flatness  of  matter,  or  the  skin  of  the  ground.  Space 
limits,  for  nothing  can  exceed  its  space,  or  add  a  cubit  to  its  stature. 
But  it  is  porous,  and  keeps  in  none  but  insides  of  its  own  grossness. 
The  light-space  transpires  through  the  air-space,  which  becomes 
luminous  thereby;  and  spiritual  things  invade  space  with  no  re- 
sistance, for  it  is  not  their  bound.  Space  has  no  existence  without 
things,  as  neither  the  skin  without  the  body.  But  it  holds  the 
creatures  that  want  room,  and  carries  them  all ;  it  is  the  quarry  of 
the  sculptures  of  shape,  the  canvas  of  the  pictures  of  color;  white 
and  glowing  in  its  sunny  eyes,  blue  in  its  immensity,  green  on  its 
seas,  and  verdant  on  its  earths.  As  by  room  and  show  it  gives  free 
expression,  it  makes  the  outward  world  candid,  that  is  to  say,  repre- 
sentative of  the  inner.  So  is  space  the  mundane  skin — all-expres- 
sive, all-elastic,  and  all-continent. 

24* 


282  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

In  the  realm  of  growth  the  same  skin-principle  has  a  new  name, 
and  there  we  call  it  nature,  the  expression  and  limit  of  growth,  or 
the  vegetable  term.  This  is  the  end  of  that  kingdom,  which  clips 
it  in  and  gives  it  bounds.  The  nature  of  trees  is,  to  rise  so  high, 
and  no  higher;  to  be  fast  in  their  places ;  to  be  immiscible  with  other 
trees;  to  be  attached  to  climates  and  fostered  by  seasons;  to  be  limit- 
ed by  each  other,  and  to  be  annual  or  perennial,  and  die  when  their 
vegetable  space  and  time  are  passed.  Their  nature  also  is  growth 
itself;  the  bud  transpires  through  the  bark  and  unfolds  into  the 
leaves,  and  the  flowers  transpire  and  unfold  in  their  turn,  like  ver- 
durous skies  steaming  out  of  the  brown  earth,  and  brilliant  vapors 
collecting  into  petals  like  little  suns  in  the  cope.  For  their  nature 
is  to  live  in  space  and  represent  it,  ranging  minutely  from  its  head 
to  its  feet.  Furthermore,  by  the  nature  of  the  vegetable  kingdom, 
the  tendencies  that  it  cannot  hold,  escape  it,  and  the  animal  king- 
dom is  evolved  on  its  outside,  created  among  its  unbounded  parts ; 
and  this  nature  is  the  end  of  development.  For  all  is  developed 
from  growth  as  all  lives  from  life.  The  animals  are  as  apparitions 
to  the  trees  and  herbs;  they  come  and  go  out  of  the  dead  spaces 
by  no  vegetable  law  ;  and  by  nature  the  science  of  stiff  stumps  avers 
that  animals  are  illusions,  but  that  birdless  and  beastless  wilder- 
nesses are  vegetable  orthodoxy  and  truth. 

We  are  now  upon  another  skin-principle,  a  third  space  and  a  se- 
cond nature,  namely  that  of  animals,  and  the  name  of  this  principle 
is  Self,  which  is  the  limit  of  the  love  of  pleasure  or  animal  heart 
(p.  248) ;  for  the  beasts  love  only  those  pleasures  that  please  them- 
selves. They  assimilate  what  suits  themselves ;  they  go  whither 
they  will ;  they  breathe  for  themselves ;  their  instincts  are  for  them- 
selves; in  a  word,  wherever  they  run  they  are  contracted  to  them- 
selves, which  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  self  bounds  them,  or 
is  their  skin.  Self,  however,  is  the  surface  and  slumber  of  every 
animal  passion;  for  passions,  or  the  life  that  " suffers  itself"  to  be 
provoked,  begin  from  the  skin.  Hence  self-defence,  in  which  nature 
seconds  passion,  and  gives  shaggy  hair  to  one,  horns  and  hoofs  to 
another,  beak  and  claws  to  a  third.  And  as  self  is  a  faculty  highly 
jealous,  it  incites  every  part  for  its  own,  that  is  to  say,  for  self-defence. 
Again,  when  self  is  touched  by  pleasure,  it  opens  and  lets  in  the 


THE  UNIVERSAL  SKINS.  283 

pleasure;  when  hurt,  it  shrinks  away:  in  short,  it  is  the  texture  of 
superficial  motives,  and  answers  every  appellant  with  lightning-haste. 
And  being  the  instigator  of  show,  it  tricks  itself  with  the  allure- 
ments of  animal  art,  and  sees  its  own  graces  in  every  polished  sur- 
face ;  and  while  it  always  displays  itself,  it  conceals  by  hiding  one 
self  under  another,  and  putting  the  most  feasible  forward.  Self 
then  is  the  dear  "  whole  skin"  of  animality,  which  keeps  it  what  it 
is,  bounds  and  binds  it  to  its  pleasures  and  pains,  making  it  impas- 
sive to  all  others,  and  cuts  it  off  from  the  universe,  but  connects  it 
with  similar  selves.  And  as  only  a  certain  amount  of  self  or  animal 
space  is  allowed  to  any  creature,  an  equilibrium  or  competition 
arises,  which  is  the  congregate  self  of  animal  tribes  or  the  selfishness 
of  animal  societies.  Yet  through  self  transpires  more  than  self,  and 
from  animality  oozes  forth  that  which  it  cannot  keep  in,  a  sphere  of 
wisdom,  self-denials  and  animal  virtues,  as  it  were  the  first  gases  in 
which  moral  life  is  respiring; — qualities  whose  origin  we  do  not 
attribute  to  the  animals  themselves,  but  to  the  Creator  passing 
through  their  shades,  and  leaving  his  prints  among  their  dreams. 
It  remains  to  be  said,  that  self  rigorously  clears  out  whatever  is  in- 
congruous, and  makes  each  animal  more  and  more  itself  the  longer 
it  lives.  Anything  unselfish  is  ghost  and  fantasy  to  self,  necessa- 
rily denied  by  every  art,  science  and  heart-beat  of  the  brutes. 

Consciousness  is  the  skin  of  human  mind  ;*  for  at  any  given  mo- 

*  Philosophers,  busy  with  the  investigation  of  consciousness,  do  not  suspect 
that  they  are  writing-  monographs  on  the  cutaneous  principles.  The  Ego  and 
the  Me,  the  self,  the  personality,  and  suchlike  thin  things  of  thought,  cannot  help 
being  somewhat  spare,  and  in  themselves  dry,  for  they  are  skinny  subjects. 
And  when  consciousness  sets  up  for  itself,  and  assumes  that  it  is  the  human 
mind,  instead  of  the  bag  in  which  the  mind  lies,  then  the  diseases  of  the  mental 
skin  begin,  and  the  unconscious  philosophers  describe  their  own  maladies  as  the 
history  of  the  universe.  Those  who  attach  themselves  to  the  "pure  Ego"  as 
having  an  independent  life  in  itself,  are  investigating  the  hairy  scalp  of  the  mind 
more  or  less  full  of  pediculi,  which  are  "  the  life"  that  it  has  "  in  itself."  Those 
who  limit  themselves  to  personality  or  individuality,  are  all  "  face"  in  their  pur- 
suits, and  study  impudence  in  its  universals.  The  drier  studies  of  consciousness 
are  busied  with  the  mental  scarf-skin,  and  when  the  organic  history  of  philoso- 
phy is  written,  the  limes  of  barren  logic  and  method  will  form  a  chapter,  headed 
"The  Age  of  Dandruff."  For  logic  is  an  armor  of  little  shiny  scales,  infinite- 
simal flints  of  thought ;  in  a  word,  cuticle ;  and  when  it  is  separated  from 
practical  ends,  scurf;  though  when  legitimate  it   is  the   proper  varnish  of  the 


284  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

merit  our  consciousness  is  ourself,  the  boundary  of  our  apprehension. 
Cogito  ergo  sum  is  this  reflex  power,  and  means  that  we  see  our 
outline  in  our  states  of  consciousness.  These  states  are  elastic  robes 
to  our  faculties,  clothing  the  placid  eye  of  thought  equally  with  the 
long  arms  of  will;  and  where  they  are  not,  the  faculties  considered 
as  human  possessions  are  not.  But  consciousness  is  an  ocular  tunic, 
or  a  man  of  eye ;  it  sees  self,  nature  and  space  without  it,  or  per- 
meates all  the  inferior  extenses.*  It  also  looks  inwards,  and  feels 
as  if  it  saw  the  vitals  of  the  mind.  It  has  moreover  different  layers 
whereof  the  one  is  conscious  of  the  other ;  and  it  is  luminous  in 
various  degrees,  from  glimmers  of  perception  to  complete  thought, 
in  which  it  forms  a  tight  envelope  of  self-knowledge  that  insures 

mind.  Again,  when  consciousness  is  sought  for  its  own  sake,  it  forms  the 
mental  itch,  which  is  a  general  and  excessive  self-consciousness.  And  when  it 
is  taken  for  the  world,  as  by  the  Berkleyans,  it  constitutes  elephantiasis  scroti 
mentis,  in  which  the  intellect  dwells  in  the  crannies  of  the  warts  of  its  own 
imagination.  We  might  easily  range  the  diseases  of  consciousness  parallel  to 
those  of  the  skin,  and  classify  the  philosophies  of  consciousness  under  vesicles, 
papules,  pustules,  exanthems,  and  the  like;  but  time  fails,  and  the  work  would  be 
both  unseemly  and  irritating.  It  is  enough,  however,  to  indicate  that  the  idols 
of  modern  philosophy,  the  Ego,  and  the  Me,  the  personality,  the  self,  the  indivi- 
duality, are  as  necessary  as  our  skins,  but  that  they  are  our  surfaces  and  lowest 
parts,  and  require  brushing  and  combing,  washing  and  tending;  but  will  by  no 
means  bear  deifying;  for  whatever  of  dirt  and  ugliness,  whatever  private  parts 
there  are  in  us.  or  come  upon  us,  these  skins  catch.  When  we  look  at  the  phi- 
losophies through  the  organon  of  the  human  body,  we  see  that  the  skin  of  every 
subject,  the  sensual  part,  has  alone  been  studied ;  and  that  speaking  bodily, 
neither  brain,  heart,  bowels,  lungs  nor  muscles  have  entered  into  philosophy, 
which  accordingly  has  been  the  dead  plane  and  flatness  of  the  human  mind,  the 
coarsest  texture  of  all,  as  if  it  were  the  dishcloth  of  the  fates. 

*  We  may  notice  cursorily  that  the  various  skin  principles  are  in  their  own 
way  co-extensive.  But  the  law  of  extension  is  different  for  each.  Conscious- 
ness reaches  the  stars,  not  by  being  put  on  the  stretcher  of  space,  but  by  enjoying 
the  faculty  of  representation.  Conscience  extends  similarly,  because  duty  is 
co-equal  with  consciousness.  The  perfection  and  relative  infiniteness  of  things 
lies  in  their  having  the  greatest  amount  of  presence  in  the  smallest  space.  Thus 
it  is  the  pre-eminence  of  the  eye  over  the  skin  that  it  touches  things  without 
contact,  and  that  there  is  no  known  proportion  between  its  size  and  that  of  its 
objects.  And  thus  it  is  the  perfection  of  motive  force  to  move  bodies  without 
exerting  any  push  like  their  own  resistance.  In  thinking,  therefore,  of  the 
higher  spaces  and  forms,  we  must  regard  each  successive  perfection  as  equiva- 
lent to  all  the  matter  and  extension  that  preceded  it,  and  look  within  the  human 
skin,  and  not  in  the  cosmos,  for  the  image  of  infinity  and  power. 


TIIE  UNIVERSAL  SKINS.  285 

our  collectedness  or  presence  of  mind.  The  inner  organs  within 
this  skin,  each  of  which  has  its  own  covering  likewise,  are  memory, 
imagination,  thought,  will,  wisdom,  and  the  parts  of  the  mental 
body  which  find  their  stay  in  consciousness,  and  from  consciousness 
run  back  into  their  deeps.  For  surface  makes  things  doubly  large, 
and  adds  the  height  and  show  of  the  outside  to  the  gauge  and  secret 
of  the  inside.  Consciousness  too  is  porous,  and  much  escapes  it : 
within  it  there  are  humanities  that  it  does  not  hold,  and  without  it, 
minds  and  persons  that  it  does  not  see ;  but  as  its  grain  gets  closer, 
and  the  rays  of  its  woof  finer  and  more  feeling,  it  girdles  more  of 
mind,  and  brings  new  invisibles  to  light :  thus  ever  and  anon  it  puts 
its  knowing  films  over  new  worlds,  folds  in  sciences,  and  gains  fresh 
wisdom  for  its  organs.  For  whatever  it  embraces  is  straightway  in 
its  body.  Consciousness  also  defends  the  mind,  for  what  is  self- 
evident  or  known  is  our  invulnerable  part,  in  which  we  travel 
through  the  unknown;  it  holds  against  harm  our  tender  and  un- 
grown  wisdom  and  thought.  This  is  the  me  of  which  the  philoso- 
phers inorganically  speak,  and  which  has  the  not  me  inside  it  for 
its  vitals,  and  outside  it  for  its  society;  for  our  substantive  faculties 
are  not  me,  and  are  wise  in  proportion  as  the  skin  of  me  is  thin  and 
pellucid.  Consciousness  also  is  an  organic  sieve,  and  clears  the 
mind ;  being  the  theatre  of  mental  elimination  •  for  the  mind  tends 
to  consciousness  or  show,*  and  no  sooner  are  we  conscious  of  any- 

*  From  the  ground  of  these  generalizations  we  may  give  a  clearer  rationale 
of  some  functions  of  the  skin.  For  in  tracking  any  subject  into  the  mind,  we 
come  to  self-evidence,  the  mind  being  the  arithmetical  quantity  of  which  other 
things  are  algebraic  symbols.  Or,  to  use  another  figure,  the  mind  is  a  banker 
that  cashes  the  notes  of  physics  into  its  light  and  life,  the  gold  currency  of  the 
sciences.  But  then  we  must  know  the  equivalence  between  the  notes  and  the 
gold,  or  we  cannot  check  our  receipts. 

Now  the  skin,  as  the  love  of  show  and  self-knowledge,  is  an  attraction  to- 
wards the  surface.  This  is  exerted  upon  the  body,  and  calculates  upon  a  love 
of  manifestation  inherent  in  the  organs.  The  love  of  show  is  the  heart  of  the 
living  skins  :  seemliness  is  their  body  :  when  the  former  propels  any  particles 
into  the  latter,  they  are  at  once  judged  in  this  court,  and  excreted,  purified,  or 
reabsorbed.  This  magnetism,  of  the  love  of  show,  or  of  coming  to  light,  ex- 
plains the  determination  of  fluids  to  the  skin;  and  as  the  organic  light  judges 
them,  we  have  here  a  self-evident  account  of  the  phenomena  of  perspiration  and 
excretion.  If  you  ask  further,  Why?  we  answer,  Why  do  you  like  seemly  and 
beautiful  things  ?    Because  they  are  pleasant.     If  then  it  be  said,  Why  do  you 


286  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

thing,  than  adoption,  or  rejection  is  involved.  Consciousness,  for 
this  purpose  as  well  as  others,  is  largely  porous,  or  full  of  blanks 
and  oblivions  for  what  is  not  agreeable.  Sleep  is  its  great  hole  or 
mouth  through  which  stuff  is  put  away,  and  a  thousand  slumbers 
to  one  thing  and  wakings  to  another,  vacancies,  forgetfulnesses,  and 
assumed  ignorances,  are  the  pores  by  which  it  rids  itself  of  thoughts 
and  memories,  and  refuses  them  a  longer  footing  in  the  mind.  By 
consciousness  also  we  stand  in  the  universe  of  mind,  and  feel  it  in 
all  forms  and  structures,  as  though  mind  were  matter,  and  nature 
the  caprice  and  building  of  a  grand  idealism. 

In  the  state  the  skin-principle  is  the  sense  of  right,  which  implies 
the  former  principles,  space,  nature,  self  and  mind,  and  is  the  citi- 
zen's motive  of  self-defence,  for  we  are  jealous  of  our  rights  as  of 
our  skins.  These  rights  are  our  social  selves,  our  honors  and  shin- 
ing parts,  which  make  the  faces  of  freemen  lustrous,  and  are  plain 
manliness  in  the  state.  Courtesy  and  manners  are  the  dyes  of  this 
social  skin.  Moreover,  according  to  his  rights  the  citizen  is  mea- 
sured, for  they  are  his  stature  j  where  they  are  small  he  is  small, 
and  where  they  are  absent  no  citizen  is  seen.  At  any  given  period, 
there  is  only  a  certain  quantity  of  social  space  or  room,  whence  each 
right  is  compressed  by  its  fellows,  yet  the  world  of  rights  is  we 
know  not  how  elastic,  and  the  state  can  expand,  or  make  new  rights, 
as  fresh  worlds  introduce  new  spaces,  and  as  self  engenders  other 
selves.  This  sense  of  right  is  the  limit,  defence,  and  reformer  of 
the  citizen ;  it  sifts  the  state  continually  to  eliminate  old  laws  and 
habitudes,  and  opens  it  to  allow  for  new :  and  moreover  it  is  sur- 
rounded unwittingly  by  the  rights  of  new  eras,  which  it  is  one  day 
to  embrace ;  for  its  nature  is  the  gradual  assumption  of  all  virile 
togas  from  the  wardrobes  of  liberty  in  the  state. 

like  them  because  they  are  pleasant  ?  This,  we  reply,  is  not  a  question,  but  a 
question  and  answer,  and  wants  no  further  answer.  But  if  it  be  said,  Why  are 
they  pleasant?  that  is  a  different  matter,  but  involves  only  your  account  of  your 
own  pleasure.  The  ground  of  the  soul's  doings  is,  because  it  likes  to  do  :  and 
the  ground  of  the  body's  doings  is,  because  it  qtfasi-likes,  or  acts  as  a  material 
soul :  this  is  its  intelligible  magnetism. 

Let  us  then  bear  in  mind,  that  the  self-knowledge  of  consciousness,  and  the 
self-examination  of  conscience,  are  the  lights  of  the  eliminatory  and  purificatory 
offices  of  the  skin.  When  the  figures  are  thus  obtained,  we  revert  to  the  dead 
algebra,  and  find  plain  numbers  underlying  it  throughout. 


THE  UNIVERSAL  SKINS.  287 

The  brain  of  the  sense  of  right  or  social  man  is  the  skin-princi- 
ple of  the  moral  man,  that  is  to  say,  the  conscience,  the  surface  upon 
which  the  moral  sense  is  felt.  For  conscience  is  the  jealousy  of 
the  virtues,  as  self  is  the  jealous  principle  of  animal  defence.  The 
individual  is  an  intense  society  in  this  spaceless  space ;  a  tender 
feeling  outraged  there,  is  a  wrong  to  the  poor  and  the  needy;  a 
hatred  is  a  murder ;  on  the  other  hand  the  virtues  exerted  in  this 
secret  chamber  toward  the  least  of  the  little  ones,  are  done  in  the 
state  of  the  state,  and  to  him  who  lives  within  the  conscience.  The 
moral  faculties  are  defended  by  this  sense,  whose  monition  rouses 
them  to  self-preservation ;  its  agonies,  and  its  happiness,  are  the 
exterior  motives  of  the  virtues.  Conscience  limits  us  to  its  com- 
pass ;  our  right  and  wrong  are  according  to  it,  for  our  morality  is 
no  larger  than  our  conscience.  It  individualizes  and  spaces  the 
virtues,  for  it  gives  to  each  its  own  grounds  of  action,  and  makes  moral 
difference  among  men.  It  expresses  them,  for  the  beauty  of  no  good- 
ness can  shine  nakedly,  but  through  the  face  of  the  conscience.  It 
purines,  for  it  is  the  essential  organ  of  self-examination,*  and  the 
supreme  area  of  our  approbations  and  rejections.  But  it  is  also  elastic, 
or  is  wisdom  living  in  circumstances.  Finally  it  is  a  point  of  con- 
science, that  there  are  degrees  of  its  sense  which  it  does  not  include, 
and  hence  it  is  open  to  new  experiences.  And  as  is  the  case  with 
all  skins,  where  they  are  not,  the  organs  underneath  them  are  not ; 
but  where  they  are,  the  man  comes  solid  within  them.  So  true  it 
is,  that  in  giving  a  new  conscience,  a  new  man  also  is  given  in  the 

old.f 

In  the  soul,  the  skin  principle  is  identity,  whose  germ  is  the  / 
that  runs  along  all  our  time,  governs  each  human  verb,  and  stands  as 
a  focus  over  our  actions ;  but  its  adult  body  is  our  sense  of  immor- 
tality, which  binds  us  in  all  things  to  be  and  to  do  for  ever.     World 

*  The  body  is  put  into  a  sieve,  which  is  the  skin,  and  shaken  about  by  the 
mind  and  muscles,  to  clear  it  of  dust  and  debris  ;  and  the  sieve  itself  knows  the 
dust  from  the  gold,  and  keeps  and  rejects  accordingly.  The  skin  is  therefore 
the  bodily  principle  of  self-examination,  the  sieve  of  our  daily  life  and  death. 

f  Any  one  may  be  without  some  of  his  bodies  if  he  is  without  their  skins  ;  for 
he  does  not  possess  until  he  comprehends  them,  or  has  their  sense  or  skin. 
What  is  not  manifested  or  revealed,  is  not,  so  far  as  man's  faculties  are  con- 
cerned. 


288  THE  HUMAN  SKIN. 

and  man  feel  permanence  when  they  touch  this  surface,  which  we 
may  term,  the  human  organ  of  eternity;  for  it  is  a  sense  without 
almanacks  or  clocks,  which  apprehends  likeness  with  God,  who  is 
the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever.  It  is  sanity  in  its  castle, 
as  on  the  other  hand  a  lost  sense  of  identity  is  the  top  of  confusions. 
It  holds  us  together  in  a  oneness  that  is  the  model  of  coherence ; 
and  in  its  going  forth,  it  is  the  apostle  of  the  unity  of  our  know- 
ledge. The  soul  is  protected  in  nature,  because  its  very  surface  is 
a  sense  of  living  for  ever  ;  the  flux  of  years  falls  down  like  water 
from  the  oil  of  such  a  virtue.  It  is  limited  or  separated  from 
nature  by  the  same  unviolated  sense.  Its  beauty  also  is  represent- 
ed on  this  sense,  for  the  beauty  of  the  soul  is  virtue  seen  under  its 
own  immortal  skies.  This  sense  also  purifies  the  soul,  and  causes 
it  to  throw  out  perishable  motives  from  its  constitution.  And  fur- 
thermore makes  it  elastic,  empowering  it  to  change  without  losing 
the  identity  that  engirds  it.  For  the  soul  becomes  more  and  more 
immortal.  In  the  body  it  is  immortal  for  a  time  ;  out  of  the  body, 
for  other  states ;  and  so  on  with  increment.  But  the  deeper  immor- 
talities escape  it  until  they  are  at  hand,  and  hence  faith  comes  in. 

But  our  senses  of  duty  and  immortality  are  inconclusive  unless 
tbe  fact  be  added  to  the  sense,  or  unless  that  which  is  given  in  love 
and  feeling  be  true  to  the  letter;  that  is  to  say,  unless  there  be  a 
letter  of  revelation  to  enfranchise  conscience  in  a  real  universe  of 
God.  Divine  Truth  in  the  letter  is  this  reality,  apart  from  which 
our  faculties  would  be  baseless  visions ;  for  humanity  can  as  little 
exist  without  the  spiritual  world,  as  animals  can  exist  without  space. 
But  the  oflice  of  the  latter  is,  to  contain  and  manifest  the  spirit. 
And  in  order  that  we  may  dwell  within  it,  it  is  like  us  in  its  form ; 
plain  also  in  its  Gospel  face,  dark  with  brightness  round  its  Apoca- 
lyptic head,  vocal  to  all  souls  in  its  Psalms,  clothed  with  mystery 
in  its  Prophecies  ;  and  its  feet  being  immovable,  we  do  not  see  the 
ground  on  which  it  stands. 


THE  HUMAN  BODY.  289 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  HUMAN  FORM. 


Hitherto  we  have  contemplated  the  human  body  in  parcels  and 
fractions,  and  have  come  gradually  down  into  the  world  from  the 
brain  to  the  skin,  or  from  the  centre  to  the  circumference.  We 
have  seen  that  the  animation  of  the  body  depends  upon  the  brain, 
and  comprises  both  a  living  motion,  and  a  living  eradiation  of  spirit 
to  every  part  of  the  system.  We  have  seen  that  the  force  of  the 
body  depends  upon  the  lungs;  that  the  play  of  life  is  brought  about 
by  the  breathing;  that  alternation  by  this  way  enters  the  frame, 
gives  it  motion  and  rest,  and  makes  it  the  instrument  of  an  ever- 
varying  progress.  We  have  seen  that  the  renovation  of  the  body 
with  substances  made  in  its  own  image,  comes  from  the  heart,  which 
gives  the  organs  a  population  of  new  individuals  as  the  old  elements 
die  out.  We  have  seen  that  the  field  of  preparation  whereby  aspir- 
ing substances  are  fitted  for  citizenship,  that  is  to  say,  whereby  food 
is  assimilated,  and  converted  into  blood,  is  represented  in  the  sto- 
mach. Finally,  that  this  motion  and  busy  life,  constant  infusion  of 
new  blood,  and  insatiable  appropriation,  has  a  government  of  its 
own,  yea,  that  it  is  a  common  government ;  and  this  is  represented 
in  the  skin,  which  limits  everything  to  its  uses,  and  connects  it  to 
its  fellows. 

In  stating  thus  much  we  have  the  position  that  the  human  body 
is  a  living,  moving,  substantial,  enduring,  inviolable  subject.  The 
brain  gives  it  life  or  ends,  which  are  the  lords  and  masters  of 
organization.  The  lungs  give  it  motion,  without  which  life  would 
be  futile.  The  heart  gives  it  substance,  without  which  motion  and 
work  would  be  impossible.  The  stomach  gives  it  supplies,  without 
which,  moving  substance,  subject  to  wear  and  tear,  could  not  last. 
And  the  skin  gives  new  ends,  or  individuality,  without  which  the 
25 


290  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

whole  would  evaporate.  Furthermore,  the  mind  and  muscles  take 
this  visceral  man  into  their  ranks,  give  him  wholeness  of  progress, 
make  every  grain  of  his  organization  human,  and  stamp  it  with  the 
spiritual  seals. 

We  may  now  go  a  step  farther,  to  a  closer  truism,  namely,  that 
the  human  body  is  alive.  This  is  what  we  have  been  endeavoring 
to  prove  by  elaborate  argumentations  !  For  science  does  not  know 
this  fact  with  which  its  neighbors  all  round  are  acquainted,  being 
scarcely  aware  that  there  is  any  difference  between  a  corpse  and  a 
gentleman,  or  even  that  "  all  flesh  is  not  the  same  flesh,  but  there 
is  one  kind  of  flesh  of  men,  another  flesh  of  beasts."  For  to  say 
that  the  human  body  is  alive,  excludes  animal  life  or  beast  body 
from  the  subject,  and  in  this  light  our  truism  is  not  recognized 
in  physiology. 

We  must,  however,  proceed  from  one  truism  to  another,  and 
further  affirm,  that  the  living  body  is  a  man,  with  nothing  in  him  but 
humanity.  We  may  illustrate  this  in  many  ways,  for  all  things 
preach  it.  For  example,  in  crystallization,  a  salt  that  is  broken 
according  to  its  cleavage,  is  still  a  perfect  salt  of  that  species ;  the 
smallest  crystal  is  as  properly  the  salt  as  the  largest.  What  is  the 
corresponding  cleavage  of  the  human  body  ?  We  do  not  here 
enter  on  the  question  of  substantial  separations,  but  of  those  of 
thought,  in  which  the  cleavage  is  the  representation  of  the  whole  in 
the  parts,  of  the  laws  of  the  body  in  its  members,  of  humanity  in 
the  organs  and  their  elements.  Take  for  instance  a  papilla  of  the 
skin — in  this  we  see  a  delicate  nerve — there  is  its  brain  ;  a  minia- 
ture system  of  blood-vessels — there  is  its  heart ;  contact  with  the 
air  and  movements  communicated  from  the  breast — there  is  its 
lung;  imbibition  of  stuff  from,  and  discharge  of  matter  into  the 
atmosphere — there  is  its  stomach  :  finally,  it  is  part  of  the  covering 
of  the  body,  and  is  itself  covered  with  a  particular  vesture — there 
is  its  skin.  In  this  way  the  parts  are  integers  of  the  whole,  and 
have  both  complete  minds  and  bodies,  and  hence  the  whole  is  the 
microscope  that  reveals  them.  Wholes,  however,  are  relative  to 
greater  integers  of  which  they  are  the  parts :  the  individual  is  a 
little  whole  compared  to  the  mind  or  progressive  individual,  whose 
whole  is  a  lifetime ;  and  this  too  is  small  compared  with  society, 


LIFE.  291 

which  covers  continents,  and  lives  for  epochs.  There  are  then  in 
the  mind's  optics  vitreous  substances  of  different  degrees,  which 
magnify  more  and  more.  For  example,  the  businesses  of  the  great 
world,  the  organs  of  the  social  man,  are  one  power  of  lens  with 
which  we  peer  into  those  of  the  individual  man.  Anthropology,  or 
the  knowledge  of  races,  with  their  large  types,  characters  and 
functions,  are  a  still  higher  power,  and  the  body  under  this  glass 
shows  like  a  world  of  man,  and  a  point  in  universal  history. 
Under  the  moral  glass  again  the  body  is  governed  by  miracle  and 
prophecy,  and  we  look  through  the  flesh  as  a  gallery  of  new  forms, 
the  plastic  statues  of  the  virtues.  According  to  our  eyes,  we  see 
the  human  frame,  either  as  a  congeries  of  dots  and  molecules,  as 
children  see  the  stars,  or  as  an  infinitesimal  mankind,  constituting 
the  smallest  complete  humanity,  which  is  a  single  human  body. 

We  are  now  on  another  landing  on  the  stair  of  truisms,  and  wo 
affirm  that  humanity  is  the  greatest  human  body,  and  the  likest  of 
all  things  to  the  least  or  individual  body.  It  has  its  brains  in  those 
who  are  the  presiding  influences  of  the  social  universe ;  its  lungs 
are  in  those  who  are  the  practical  intellect  of  the  ages,  and  the 
voice  of  truth  to  the  world )  its  heart  is  the  thousandfold  love  that 
carries  the  races  to  their  goals,  the  poets  whose  bold  blood  licks  up 
toward  heaven,  and  talks  in  tongue-like  alphabets  to  our  own ;  its 
belly  is  the  whole  schooling  of  mankind,  all  the  men  and  means 
that  have  ever  grown  up,  that  hunger  arid  thirst  to  receive  infants 
and  savages,  and  convert  them  into  angels.  Its  skin  is  in  those  who 
are  the  bonds  of  their  state,  which  are  nothing  more  than  the  lines 
and  currents  of  the  social  freedom,  but  looked  at  from  without  as 
decorous  beauty,  or  inviolable  law.  In  this  organization,  each  mole- 
cule is  an  individual  man,  the  account  of  whose  functions  depends 
upon  the  constitution  of  the  whole. 

So  far  it  will  be  perceived,  that  life  is  the  main  clement  of  our 
wants  in  physiology;  which  accords  with  common  sense,  for  who 
does  not  desire  to  be  alive,  and  more  alive,  in  whatever  he  does  and 
thinks  ?  Yet  nothing  has  so  much  agitated  our  science,  as  that 
which  ought  to  be  its  greatest  blessing — Life ;  nothing  has  seemed 
so  much  beyond  it  as  that  life  which  is  the  first  perception  of  in- 
fantine reason,  and  the  joy  of  even  the  beasts  and  birds;  nothing 


292  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

has  thrown  it  into  such  peevish  atheism,  as  that  great  plain  gift 
which  we  accept  every  moment  from  the  Author  of  our  being  and 
the  Founder  of  our  faith.  They  cruelly  say  that  life  is  mysterious, 
hut  learned  ignorance  alone  is  mysterious  :  how  can  life  be  myste- 
rious, when  light  is  truth,  and  light  and  life  are  one  ? 

Let  us  look  at  our  predicament  physiologically,  that  we  may  see 
where  we  stand,  and  what  we  have  to  do.  The  living  body  is  the 
field  which  we  are  to  explore.  What  course  are  we  obliged  to  take  ? 
We  are  compelled  to  dissect  the  dead :  but  does  this  give  the  infor- 
mation which  we  seek  ?  Evidently  not,  for  dead  organs  are  the 
antipodes  of  our  quest.  What  is  to  be  done,  to  raise  the  dead  man, 
and  unbind  his  grave  clothes?  What  divine  voice  shall  cry  to 
physiology,  "  Lazarus,  come  forth  ?"  Life  must  be  brought  from 
the  living,  from  the  quick  body  and  mind ;  also  from  the  great 
forum  of  men,  which  we  call  life  par  excellence.  Tell  us  whither 
else  can  we  carry  it  into  the  sciences  than  from  the  mighty  reser- 
voirs of  history  and  humanity  ?  Beyond  a  doubt  it  can  only  come 
from  where  it  is,  that  is  to  say,  from  the  land  of  the  living. 

Here  the  question  of  life  loses  its  mystery,  and  shines  with 
understanding  by  its  own  inherent  effulgence.  There  are  not  two 
lives,  but  one;  not  a  human  life  here,  and  a  physiological  life 
totally  different  there.  That  which  is  life  in  humanity,  that  which 
is  life  in  society,  that  which  is  life  in  persons,  and  in  the  moral 
soul,  is  also  life,  and  the  only  life,  in  the  organs  of  the  frame. 
Ends,  motives,  passions,  affections,  likings,  loves,  virtues,  are 
human  vitality,  and  there  is  none  other.  For  what  is  our  life,  and 
the  measure  of  it  ?  What  is  our  experience  thereof  ?  What  is  it 
that  sets  us  in  motion,  and  opens  us  for  sensation  ?  Why  do  we 
do  anything,  or  think  anything,  or  keep  ourselves  awake  to  feel 
anything  ?  Most  surely  because  our  being  lies  in  cherished  ends, 
in  which  success  is  delight,  and  delight  the  flaming  of  our  lives. 
Remove  these  ends,  and  we  stare  without  seeing,  and  sit  in  corners 
with  hideous  apathy  and  indecorum,  miserably  disheveled  and 
vegetalized ;  for  life  has  nothing  to  do,  and  is  taking  its  departure  : 
as  in  the  Metamorphosis  we  are  growing  into  trees,  and  the  needy 
soil  shall  swallow  us. 

Apply  this  to  the  body  and  its  parts,  and  we  find  that  the  ends 


ENDS  ARE  LIFE.  293 

which  it  subserves  in  the  order  of  things,  are  its  animating 
principles.  They  are  not  abstractions,  but  spirits  embodied  in 
works.  They  are  not  fluids,  or  solids,  but  human  uses  incarnate. 
Above  or  beyond  these  there  is  no  life  in  us ;  but  whatever  is  use- 
ful or  endful,  God  is  with  it,  and  that  is  its  only  life.  If  you  look 
for  the  life  of  friend  or  brother,  it  is  the  stature  of  himself  work- 
ing in  his  daily  calling :  no  one  part  of  him,  but  all  parts  and  the 
whole,  kindling  as  he  moves  round  his  orbit  of  ends,  into  more 
than  the  whole.  Life  is  man  and  whatever  is  manly ;  humanity 
itself  in  the  fire  and  work  of  development ;  it  is  incapable  of  dis- 
section, for  it  never  can  be  seen  but  in  play;  whence  the  end  of 
anatomy  is,  to  show  that  man  cannot  be  anatomized.  The  desidera- 
tum is,  to  see  each  portion  of  the  body  united  with  the  whole  in  its 
uses,  when  the  life  of  the  whole  will  come  to  the  parts,  and  sum- 
mon them  to  live.  After  which,  that  thing  so  often  mentioned, 
and  so  little  conceived,  namely,  human  anatomy  as  distinct  from 
cadaverous,  will  begin ;  for  the  life  of  our  lungs  and  liver  is  as 
inalienably  human,  as  the  life  of  Shakspeare,  or  of  the  English 
nation.  And  then,  moreover,  the  science  of  the  body  will  lose  its 
grossness,  for  the  moral  and  spiritual  powers  will  have  their  ana- 
logues in  every  chamber  of  the  organs,  and  cleanness  and  chastity 
will  be  busy  maids  among  the  useful  furnitures  of  the  flesh. 

If  life  consists  in  ends,  there  is  a  soul  to  entertain  them ;  and 
wants  and  desires  imply  mankind  beforehand.  For  we  assume  the 
soul,  as  also  the  existence  of  an  imperishable  humanity.  It  is  a 
venerable  creed,  like  a  dawn  on  the  peaks  of  thought,  reddening 
their  snows  from  the  light  of  another  sun — the  substance  of  imme- 
morial religions,  the  comfort  of  brave  simplicity,  but  the  doubt  of  to- 
day, and  the  abyss  of  terrified  science.  Let  it  come,  however,  scien- 
tifically, in  the  ghastliness  of  hypothesis,  and  let  us  work  with  it, 
and  see  what  it  is  worth;  and  treating  the  question  of  life  under  that 
formula,  let  us  proceed  to  the  connection  between  the  whole  and  the 
part,  or  between  the  body  and  the  soul. 

This  is  another  branch  of  the  same  problem,  which  bewilders 
speculation,  because  we  go  away  from  the  meaning  of  human  life, 
thinking  to  attain  to  some  indescribable  life  separate  from  our  na- 
ture.    As  we  said  when  speaking  of  life,  so  we  repeat  in  this  new 

9** 


294  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

field,  that  there  are  not  two  kinds  of  connections,  one  physiological, 
the  other  human,  but  the  connections  that  we  form  in  our  daily  walks 
are  the  types  of  those  of  the  sciences. 

The  question  may  be  divided  for  convenience  sake  into  two  heads; 
namely,  1.  Why  is  the  connection  between  the  soul  and  the  body 
effected?     And  2.  How  does  it  take  place? 

First,  for  the  Why?  We  answer  to  this,  that  the  soul  is  con- 
nected with  the  body  for  the  same  reason  as  we  are  connected  with 
the  persons,  objects,  and  circumstances  that  surround  us,  and  which 
answer  to  our  wants  and  interests.  In  a  similar  manner  the  body 
answers  to  the  wants  of  the  soul  (p.  242 — 244),  being  the  soul's 
wife,  the  soul's  friend,  the  soul's  house,  the  soul's  office,  the  soul's 
universe.  It  is  engaged  to  the  service  of  the  soul ;  shapen  into  use- 
fulness by  the  soul's  ministrations.  As  the  hand  shapes  the  pen, 
and  then  writes  with  it,  so  the  soul  forms  the  body,  and  then  makes 
use  of  the  properties  resulting  from  the  form.  The  connection  be- 
tween the  soul  and  the  body  is  not  more  mysterious  than  the  con- 
nection between  the  pen-maker  and  the  pen,  excepting  that  our  know- 
ledge of  the  pen  is  so  much  more  complete  than  our  knowledge  of 
the  body.  A  science  of  the  body,  had  we  such,  that  displayed  its 
uses,  or  its  specific  fitness  to  serve  the  soul,  would  as  evidently  give 
the  motives  of  the  attachment  of  the  soul  to  the  body,  as  the  capa- 
bilities of  the  pen  account  for  its  connection  with  the  fingers  of  the 
ready  writer.  In  both  cases  it  is  the  bond  of  service,  of  liking,  of 
utility;  for  to  intelligent  life  what  other  connecting  principle  is  pos- 
sible? If  this  is  too  simple  for  philosophers,  still  it  is  the  ground 
of  every  connection  they  themselves  form  with  man  or  thing. 

For  the  purpose  of  breaking  abstruseness  from  the  argument,  let 
us  look  upon  the  natural  body  as  the  well  furnished  house,  the  ad- 
mirable circumstance  and  worldly  fortune  of  the  soul.  Then,  steadily 
regarding  the  soul  as  the  man,  something  like  the  following  analo- 
gical discourse  may  result  from  this  point  of  view,  in  which  we  take 
our  stand  inwards,  to  gain  distance  for  the  object. 

The  soul  being  the  man  or  real  body,  the  natural  body  represents 
the  appliances  and  arts  of  life,  whether  economic  or  Aesthetic.  The 
eye  is  its  window,  telescope,  microscope,  and  answers  to  the  series 
of  means  that  transparent  substance  lends  to  vision,  and  which  arc 


CONNECTION  OF  SOUL  WITH  BODY.  295 

as  curious  and  exquisite  for  their  appearance  as  they  are  excellent 
for  use:  for  the  eye  receives  the  finest  impressions  from  things,  and 
gives  the  finest  expressions  from  the  soul.  So  likewise  the  ear  is 
the  hearing-trumpet  of  the  real  body,  which  would  otherwise  be  deaf 
to  the  music  of  nature ;  it  embraces  all  the  means  of  reverberation, 
whether  in  the  free  air,  or  of  cheerful  voices  from  household  ceiling 
and  walls,  or  of  stately  sounds  from  the  long-drawn  aisle  and  fretted 
vault :  in  short,  both  the  whole  instrumentality  and  the  whole  archi- 
tecture of  sound.  But  the  nose  is  to  the  real  body  the  prophecy  of 
devices  that  have  not  yet  entered  into  arts;  full  as  it  is  of  mem- 
branous parterres  and  vacant  aviaries  for  odors ;  for  hitherto,  aromas 
are  but  casual  visitants ;  they  come  and  go  in  brief  seasons  with  the 
fitful  winds,  and  where  is  the  vessel  that  can  hold  them ;  hence  the 
nose  of  flesh  is  deficient  in  circumstance,  and  we  can  only  identify  it 
somewhat  barbarously  as  the  scent  bottle  of  the  real  nose.  To  pass 
over  the  other  senses,  we  find  that  the  legs  are  the  outward  art  of 
locomotion,  from  passive  to  active;  from  the  nails  of  the  toes  to  the 
wheel  of  the  knee  and  the  globe  of  the  hip;  in  short  from  the  walk- 
ing-stick to  the  railroad;  the  real  body  uses  them  in  nature,  whether 
as  the  staff  of  its  lowliness,  or  the  means  of  its  swiftness,  or  the 
equipage  of  its  pride ;  they  are  the  columns  of  movement ;  the  rich 
soul's  carriage,  and  the  poor  soul's  crutches.  But  the  arms  and 
hands  are  all  the  finer  machineries  or  inventions  that  are  wielded 
directly  by  the  arms  and  hands  of  the  soul;  they  are  the  pen  and 
the  sword;  the  instrument  of  many  strings;  strength  and  manipu- 
lation in  their  bearings;  in  short,  the  mechanics  of  intelligence, 
whereby  nice  conveniences  of  truth  are  gathered  in  the  dwelling  of 
the  soul.  Then  the  abdomen  is  its  kitchen,  preparing  from  all 
things  in  its  indefinite  stores  one  universal  dish — even  the  blood  of 
life,  to  be  served  in  repasts  for  the  spiritual  man ;  the  viand  of  viands, 
varying  from  hour  to  hour,  and  suited  with  more  than  mathematic 
truth  to  the  appetite  and  constitution  of  the  eater.  Then  again  the 
chest  distributes  with  a  power  of  wisdom  dictated  from  the  halls 
above,  this  blood,  the  daily  bread  and  wine  of  the  body  of  the  soul, 
and  the  wisdom  that  ordained,  enters  the  feast,  and  it  becomes  a 
living  entertainment.  And  the  brain  is  the  steward  and  keeper  of 
the  animated  house,  receiving  order  and  law  from  the  soul  or  brain- 


296  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

rnan,  and  transplanting  them  into  its  mundane  economy.  Yea,  and 
"  the  brain  is  its  natural  universe,  its  wide  spread  landscapes,  its  illi- 
mitable ocean,  its  royal  library,  studio,  theatre,  church,  and  what- 
ever else  is  a  place  of  universal  light  and  contemplation.  And  lastly, 
the  skin  is  the  dress  of  the  soul  in  every  kind,  convenient,  beautiful, 
official;  and  it  is  also  the  very  mansion  itself;  for  our  houses  are 
but  the  largest  suits,  admitting  our  domestic  movements. 

By  this  artifice  of  holding  out  our  bodies  before  us,  we  illustrate 
in  a  plain  way,  the  connection  or  correspondence  between  the  soul 
and  the  body;  and  though  there  be  other  motives  of  connection,  it  is 
sufficient  to  remark  for  the  present,  that  by  the  foregoing  signs,  it 
is  because  the  body  is  so  replete  with  exquisite  convenience,  that  it 
is  the  domestic  establishment  of  the  soul.  Given  a  tenement  of 
the  kind,  so  royal  with  apparatus,  and  it  is  impossible  that  the  soul 
to  whose  wants  it  answers,  should  not  live  in  it,  and  use,  that  is  to 
say,  animate  it.  If  the  soul  were  not  a  tenant  on  such  invitation, 
it  would  be  stupider  than  the  birds  and  beasts,  which  are  drawn  by 
far  lesser  affinities  to  their  own  convenient  lairs. 

Let  us  now  reverse  the  picture,  and  suppose  for  the  argument's 
sake,  that  a  savage  is  introduced  for  the  first  time  into  one  of  our 
convenient  mansions,  and  knows  the  use  of  neither  table  or  chair, 
knife  or  fork,  bed  or  carriage,  washing  or  lodging;  but  his  naked 
body  and  unarmed  hand  have  been  accustomed  to  rude  fellowship  or 
direct  fight  with  nature.  Can  he  account  for  the  connection  of  the 
civilized  man  with  his  house  ?  By  no  means.  Unhoused  body  that 
he  is,  we  see  in  him  a  type  of  those  who  cannot  conceive  the  bond 
between  spirit  and  nature,  because  they  know  nothing  of  the  wants 
of  spirit,  or  of  the  uses  of  nature  to  spirit.  At  first,  then,  the 
savage  cannot  divine  why  his  civilized  brother  limits  himself  to  a 
house,  because  he  is  uninformed  of  the  good  of  a  house,  and  not 
prepared  for  information.  As,  however,  his  wants  grow,  and  he 
learns  the  uses  of  the  furniture,  and  the  proper  mode  of  employing 
it,  the  motives  and  points  of  connection  come  forth  one  by  one ; 
and  when  all  the  uses  are  understood,  then  for  the  first  time  he 
understands  both  the  reason  and  mode  of  the  permanent  act  of  in- 
habitation. 

So  it  is  with  the  body  and  the  soul.     The  physiological  savage 


CONNECTION  OF  SOUL  WITH  BODY.  297 

(we  beg  his  pardon)  knows  nothing  of  the  body  as  a  correspondent 
or  furnished  abode,  but  only  as  a  strange  looking  exception  to  wild 
nature,  an  affront  to  the  wilderness,  and  how  then  should  he  see  its 
connection  with  an  owner  or  a  soul  ?  For  the  uses  of  things  are 
the  reasons  why  they  are  used.  And  hence  the  perception  of  the 
connection  of  nature  with  spirit,  is  the  exact  counterpart  of  the 
perception  of  the  spiritual  uses  of  nature.  To  see  the  one  is  to  see 
the  other,  as  to  miss  the  one  is  to  miss  the  other  also. 

A  word  now  respecting  the  second  point,  or  the  mode  in  which 
the  connection  is  effected. 

When  we  speak  of  the  connection  between  the  body  and  the  soul, 
we  are  apt  at  first  to  think,  that  it  is  a  single  link  or  act;  but  this 
is  an  insufficient  conception.  There  are  as  many  different  modes  of 
connection  as  there  are  wants  in  the  soul,  and  organs,  parts  and  par- 
ticles in  the  body.  There  are  as  many  different  modes  as  there  are 
possible  species  of  contact  in  the  great  and  the  little  creation.  The 
soul  is  connected  in  one  way  with  the  brain,  in  another  with  the 
lungs,  in  another  with  the  heart,  in  another  with  the  belly,  again 
in  another  with  the  skin.  To  make  this  clear,  recur  to  the  house 
and  its  furniture.  The  inhabitant  owns  everything  contained  in  it. 
Upon  one  piece  of  furniture  he  reclines,  upon  another  he  sits,  at 
another  he  writes,  upon  others  he  treads ;  some  contain  his  viands, 
some  delight  him  with  harmonious  sounds,  and  some  look  down  from 
his  walls,  and  gratify  him  by  arts  and  proportions ;  and  with  all 
these,  and  many  more,  he  is  connected.  Now  in  each  case  it  is  the 
shape,  make,  form,  or  properties  whereby  the  thing  serves  its  pur- 
pose, that  is  the  means  of  his  connection  with  it.  If  he  sits  at  his 
desk,  it  is  because  it  is  such  or  such  a  structure,  and  serves  him  for 
reading  and  writing ;  he  never  makes  a  mistake  of  sitting  for  these 
purposes  at  his  coal-skuttle.  Apply  this  to  the  body,  and  we  find 
that  its  dweller  uses  every  implement  there  also  according  to  its 
form.  The  reverent  soul  kneels  in  the  knees,  because  they  are 
natural  kneelers.  The  inquiring  soul  peers  through  the  eyes,  for 
they  are  born  windows.  The  make  of  the  organ  is  the  handle 
whereby  the  inner  man  grasps  and  uses  it.  Our  business  therefore 
is,  to  show  the  motives  for  which  the  soul  affects  the  body,  by  de- 
monstrating the  deeds  that  the  body  performs  for  the  soul;  and  it 


298  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

is  our  further  province  to  show  the  manner  in  which  the  soul  lays 
hold  of  the  body  in  different  parts,  by  explaining  the  precise  me- 
chanism whereby  the  useful  deeds  are  done.  The  whole  is  a  matter 
of  facts,  too  full  for  speculation. 

This  connection  of  soul  with  body  is  no  chaining  of  the  living  to 
the  dead,  like  the  horrid  punishments  of  old  times,  but  it  is  the  live 
man  freely  working  with  the  finest  tools  of  nature,  the  chief  musician 
in  continual  play  upon  the  choicest  instrument  of  music.  Moreover 
as  the  soul  goes  beyond  the  circumference,  and  returns  into  itself, 
so  it  includes  the  body,  and  takes  it  back  with  it  alive;  the  immortal 
confers  his  own  life  upon  his  mortal  bride :  there  is  a  reciprocal  con- 
nection of  the  body  and  the  soul,  and  that  wondrous  house  is  the 
model  faery-land :  the  bells  ring  of  their  own  accord  at  the  time  of 
the  master's  volition;  the  chairs  dance  into  their  places  for  the 
guests;  the  harp  and  the  player  understand  each  other,  and  sweet 
touches  of  no  violence  are  simultaneous  with  delicious  sounds  rising 
upwards  to  the  listening  soul.  There  is  not  only  connection  but 
consent.  As  to  freedom,  the  relation  is  permanent,  but  liberal. 
There  is  ample  space  between  soul  and  body,  as  between  friend  and 
friend,  and  yet  the  ever- varying  bond  is  all  the  closer,  being  founded 
upon  the  interests  of  each,  which  have  room  for  play  in  the  wide 
interval  between  them. 

This  same  problem  of  connection  occurs  wherever  a  higher  system 
is  united  to  a  lower.  The  connection  of  nerve  with  muscle,  or  with 
vessel,  is  as  inscrutable  to  the  physiologist,  as  that  of  the  soul  with 
the  body,  to  the  philosopher.  A  sight  immersed  in  the  muscle  would 
as  little  find  the  nerve,  as  our  incarnate  eyes  can  see  the  spirit  land. 
Here,  as  in  the  larger  case,  it  is  the  dependence  of  uses  and  forms 
that  makes  the  connection :  the  body  is  a  whole,  because  its  parts 
are  chains  of  correspondencies.  There  is  no  glue  between  the 
organs,  but  they  are  always  loving  each  other,  and  always  using 
each  other.  No  wonder  they  cohere.  Birds  of  a  feather  flock  to- 
gether, and  likeness  and  liking  are  the  gold  wedding  ring  of  the 
universe. 

The  cosmical  relations  of  the  body  proceed  upon  the  law,  that 
the  body  is  the  form  of  the  soul,  according  to  the  order  of  the  uni- 


COSMICAL  RELATIONS  OF  THE  BODY.         299 

verse.  That  is  to  say,  as  the  plant  grows  by  the  unfolding  of  the 
seed,  according  to  the  climate  and  soil,  so  the  body  grows  from  its 
own  ensouled  seed,  according  to  its  soil  and  clime,  which  are  the 
mundane  system.  The  soul  commences  with  the  commencement  of 
nature,  and  flies  down,  weaving  and  constructing,  through  all  her 
kingdoms.  The  brain  is  the  home  that  it  makes  on  its  own  plan, 
of  the  solar  fires,  and  the  brain  is  the  soul  of  the  body  anew,  and 
the  sun  of  the  microcosm;  the  principles  of  the  world  are  the  beams 
of  its  chambers,  and  it  lives  like  the  eagle  unharmed  in  the  glory 
of  its  native  pavilion.  The  nerves  are  the  next  construction  of  the 
dramatic  soul,  where  it  brings  the  imponderable  forces  and  fluids 
into  a  beaten  highroad  of  human  life,  making  ether  and  magnetism 
into  pathways  for  the  processions  of  thought  and  will;  for  the 
nerves  are  the  horses  of  the  sun,  which  carry  out  the  decrees  of  the 
revolving  brain  from  the  east  to  the  west,  and  from  the  morning  to 
the  evening,  of  the  microcosm.  Next  the  soul  is  victor  of  the  air,  and 
poised  amid  the  whirling  winds,  she  knits  their  filmy  stuffs  into  obe- 
dience; and  lo !  a  fabric  huge  rises  like  an  exhalation — it  is  the  lungs, 
the  temple  of  xEolus,  the  shrine  of  the  powers  of  the  air.  There 
is  the  first  house  of  liberty,  the  free  place  of  elections,  the  Campus 
Martins  of  the  understanding.  Accordingly  the  breathing  lungs 
are  the  barometer  that  indicate  the  peace,  or  the  power,  or  the  storm, 
of  the  soul :  all  the  passions  swing  and  swim,  and  find  their  golden 
liberty,  in  that  aerial  sea :  there  they  rock,  and  waft,  and  sail,  in 
gilded  barge,  or  pompous  balloon,  or  happy  skiff,  or  dark  boats  of 
Erebus.  But  the  progress  continues.  The  work  of  ensoulment  is 
carried  on  through  the  animal,  the  vegetable  and  the  mineral.  The 
heart  and  viscera  are  the  stations  of  the  soul  in  these  uttermost 
regions.  The  abdominal  organs  are  the  garden  with  its  trees  and 
inhabitants,  where  bread  and  salt,  fruit  and  flesh,  are  presented  to 
the  soul;  and  the  heart  is  the  animal  man  himself,  the  sovereign  of 
the  tribes,  appropriating  their  tributes,  and  making  the  body  an  as- 
semblage of  the  universals  of  the  earth.  Then,  as  nature  moves  by 
immense  attractions  from  space  to  space,  or  is  always  making  new 
spaces,  and  worlds  to  populate  them,  so  the  soul  will  do  the  like; 
and  out  of  the  moving  mechanism  of  things  she  builds  the  limbs  of 
human  kind,  which  are  as  a  new  liberty;  and  the  legs  are  the  be- 


300  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

ginning  of  all  progress,  and  the  arms,  of  all  secondary  creations 
or  arts.  But  from  the  extreme  of  nature — from  the  boundaries  of 
death,  there  is  something  to  come  that  nature  can  never  bestow,  and 
that  something  is  sensation — the  vital  hoop  which  girdles  the  body, 
and  separates  it  for  a  season  from  the  universe.  Hence  at  the  outer 
gate  of  nature  life  again  breaks  forth  in  joyful  resurrection;  unab- 
sorbed,  unextinguished,  the  Maker  is  not  exhausted,  but  is  greater 
for  his  work.  For  the  soul  running  downwards  from  the  brain  to 
the  skin,  never  ending  in  the  end  begins  anew,  and  reattaches  death 
to  life  by  the  standing  wonder  of  the  fivefold  senses.  So  where  the 
formative  soul  ends,  the  conscious  soul  or  the  man  begins — viz., 
with  the  senses,  as  the  basis,  clothing  and  incentive  of  the  will  and 
understanding.  And  as  the  soul  descended,  the  senses  reascend,  the 
same  grand  staircase  of  kingdoms.  Touch,  taste  and  smell  are  the 
living  mineral,  vegetable  and  animal;  and  hearing  is  a  new-born 
palace  of  the  air,  whose  shakes  are  music,  and  its  winds  are  speech. 
And  the  eye,  round  like  the  world,  and  rolling  on  its  axis,  communes 
afresh  with  the  whole  possessions  of  light,  and  sees  all  from  the  sun 
to  the  landscape  in  the  gloss  of  that  glory  which  is  an  image  of  the 
truth. 

We  now  come  directly  to  the  human  form,  the  stature  of  our  souls, 
and  the  vessel  of  our  lives;  and  here  we  quit  the  anatomical,  and 
enter  upon  the  integral  sciences;  nay,  we  also  quit  the  body,  so  far 
as  it  is  material,  and  additional  to  the  form. 

The  human  form  is  the  image  of  God;  for  "God  made  man  in 
his  own  image,  in  the  image  of  God  created  He  him,"  and  man  is 
a  living  human  form.  And  the  Creator  Himself,  as  the  archetype 
of  the  creature,  is  a  divine  man,  or  a  divinely  human  form.  Ac- 
cordingly God's  revealed  faces  are  such  as  man  apprehends  by  his 
own  mind  and  likeness;  as  it  is  said,  the  Maker  of  all  is  "King  of 
kings,  and  Lord  of  lords  j"  and  again  in  the  new  covenant,  God  is 
"our  Father  in  the  heavens."  And  this  way  of  speaking,  accom- 
modated to  our  nature,  involves  no  compromise,  but  the  divine  truth 
that  man,  the  image  of  God,  can  know  God  by  his  constitution. 

The  Word,  in  which  God  comes  to  man,  or  makes  human  revela- 
tion of  himself,  reveals  man  to  his  real  body,  or  shows  the  manhood 


THE  IMAGE  OF  GOD.  301 

of  the  soul.  For  angels  and  spirits,  who  are  souls,  are  brought  to 
us  by  the  Bible  in  the  human  form.  Heaven  also,  the  holy  city, 
which  lieth  four-square,  has  the  same  stamp,  being  "according  to 
the  measure  of  a  man,  that  is,  of  the  angel."  By  this  apocalypse 
we  are  among  brethren  in  every  world,  and  we  know  that  their  hu- 
manity is  distinct  according  to  the  eminence  of  their  form. 

Here  occurs  another  field  of  subsidiary  revelations ;  for  the  world 
(not  the  skeptical  but  the  real  world)  is  complete  in  cases  wherein 
parted  souls  reappear  to  us,  and  show  us  that  the  human  form  is 
not  meet  for  death  :  and  even  when  intangible  to  the  grosser  man, 
still  the  form  stands  before  his  eyes,  because  its  very  colors  are  im- 
mortal. 

To  turn  from  what  is  revealed  to  what  is  perceived,  the  eye  opened 
by  revelation  is  the  eye  also  of  reason,  which  now  sees  the  same  om- 
niprevalence  of  the  human  form  divine.  Our  thoughts  of  God  are 
thoughts  of  an  infinite  humanity  :  the  love  and  wisdom  counted  for 
all  manliness,  are  attributed  to  our  Creator  by  the  very  brightness 
of  our  minds.  Whenever  reason  shines  and  becomes  half  angelic 
it  talks  humanities  of  the  living  God.  The  mind  is  constructed  for 
revelation,  and  its  functions  of  loving  and  thinking,  once  opened, 
flow  according  to  the  truth  of  divine  things,  as  the  body  when  launch- 
ed into  the  world  in  breathing,  falls  in  with  the  laws  of  the  world  in 
rearing  its  own  constitution.  It  is  not  easy  to  discriminate  between 
the  gift  and  the  giver,  but  in  the  better  faculty,  perception  is  re- 
vealed, and  revelation  is  perceived,  and  our  powers  are  properly  our 
own,  v>hcn  we  own  that  they  are  of  God;  for  in  the  soul  the  claim 
of  private  property  abrogates  the  possibility  of  possession.  The  re- 
sult is  that  thought  is  necessarily  directed  to  the  God  of  Revelation, 
whom  understanding  and  affection  meet;  i.  c,  to  a  divine  human- 
ity :  in  the  case  of  our  fellows,  to  a  soul  of  which  the  body  is  the 
counterpart,  i.  e.,  to  a  soul  in  the  human  form  :  and  with  those  who 
have  left  our  world,  still  to  human  souls  and  shapes,  to  whom  "  he'7 
and  "  she,"  and  the  like  pronouns  of  our  love  apply. 

Let  us  register  here,  that  the  body  of  man  is  the  anchor  of  these 

perceptions,  and  attaches  to  every  contemplation  of  the  human  form. 

For  body  is  the  exigence  of  spirit,  the  partner  of  its  love  and  the 

throne  of  its  power.     And  though  God  be  not  as  we,  it  is  not  our 

26 


302  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

form  that  we  cast  to  view  him,  but  the  imperfections  of  our  form, 
which  as  we  put  them  off,  the  form  becomes  more  sincerely  human, 
and  likens  nearer  to  the  truth.  Hence  the  way  to  a  divine  percep- 
tion is  the  rejection  of  our  inhumanity.  Moreover  by  a  connection 
that  none  can  repeal,  the  man  of  the  senses  is  married  to  him  of  the 
soul,  for  better,  for  worse,  for  richer,  for  poorer.  In  thought  also, 
every  idea  has  a  form,  every  form  has  a  shape,  every  shape  has  a 
body,  every  body  is  a  substance;  and  to  sum  up  all  by  the  same 
fact,  human  truth  is  incarnate.  Thus  the  human  form  implies  the 
shape  of  the  body,  but  ninefold  flexible,  or  drawn  into  perfections 
of  which  flesh  and  blood  are  but  the  footstool. 

On  this  subject  we  say  further,  that  disembodiment  is  hateful  to 
man,  and  the  fear  of  death  itself,  apart  from  the  love  of  life,  arises 
from  our  ignorance  that  the  dead  are  men.  No  wonder  that  we 
shudder  with  all  our  life  beside  a  brink  where  philosophers  teach 
us  that  the  human  form  is  wrecked.  It  were  weakness  not  to  shrink 
from  the  loss  of  that  which  is  the  instrument  of  all  our  power.  For 
whatever  is  strong  tends  to  incarnation.  An  energetic  purpose  is 
at  once  in  the  arms  and  hands,  and  emboldens  their  play :  whoso 
crosses  it,  finds  that  its  missionary  is  never  such  tough  matter  as 
when  his  spirit  is  behind  him  and  within  him.  A  lively  thought 
calls  up  image  after  image,  and  is  embodied  at  once;  if  the  images 
will  not  come,  there  is  an  end  of  the  thought.  A  will  not  only 
rushes  into  the  muscular  system,  which  is  a  battalion  of  arms  and 
limbs,  but  it  rifles  resistance  for  hardness,  and  plucks  out  the  teeth 
from  steel  and  stone,  to  make  fresh  bellies  of  strength.  A  high 
contemplation  in  the  soul,  begins  to  see  heaven  only  with  the  up- 
turned eyes,  and  to  pray  in  the  body  as  soon  as  the  contemplation 
is  full.  A  soul  is  no  sooner  projected  than  it  begins  to  build  a  body 
for  itself.  Thus  strength  clasps  and  presses  body,  to  beget  works 
as  children.  Impotence  on  the  other  hand  engenders  with  abstrac- 
tion, and  prating  philosophies  come. 

In  returning  from  this  digression,  we  next  meet  that  activity  of 
mind  which  begins  to  work  upon  the  two  worlds  of  spirit  and  mat- 
ter with  native  conceptions  of  its  own.  This  is  the  poesy  of  know- 
ledge, the  sense  of  nature  and  things  which  is  born  of  human  reli- 
gions.    And  it  affirms  the  personality  of  its  objects;  not  only  of  men 


HUMANITY  RULES  THE  SCIENCES.  303 

and  women,  but  of  flowers  and  horses,  stars  and  streams :  and  dwells 
upon  them  fondly,  as  if  they  were  in  its  own  sense  alive.  The 
childhood  of  races  as  well  as  individuals  is  so  vital  and  full-blooded 
that  it  looks  on  the  world  and  all  it  contains  as  a  land  of  the  living. 
With  no  permission  of  afterthought,  it  deems  and  imagines  struc- 
turally, and  its  organization  is  the  mould  in  which  every  conception 
runs.  It  believes  that  it  is  enfranchized,  not  limited  by  brains; 
and  it  knows  that  departure  from  these  leads  to  nothing  but  folly 
and  confusion ;  space  and  matter,  irrespective  of  man,  are  silly  mon- 
sters which  it  does  not  heed ;  so  flimsy  that  thought  goes  through 
them  as  if  there  was  nothing  there.  For  the  rest,  the  prime  method 
of  humanity  is,  trust  to  the  topness  of  the  human  head.  Those 
who  belong  to  this  method,  send  forth  words  that  feed  on  time, 
which  feeds  on  all  other  things :  words  which  already  play  with 
everlasting  flowers  over  the  grave  of  many  philosophies  that  have 
been  impertinent  to  the  human  form. 

We  note  then,  among  the  first  natures  of  our  minds,  the  concep- 
tion that  there  is  an  architectural  human  life  among  the  beams  and 
rafters  of  the  world;  which  conception  is  the  ancester  of  science; 
the  natural  loins  of  truth  out  of  which  come  all  the  families  of  the 
adult  understanding  :  and  we  hold,  that  to  repulse  this  nature  is  to 
be  brutal  to  the  mighty  mother,  to  bastardize  knowledge,  to  begin 
the  sciences  nowhere,  to  expect  to  find  by  starting  without  looking, 
and,  in  fine,  to  select  impossibility  as  the  arena  of  our  struggles. 
The  attempt  has  been  made  in  the  inductive  sciences,  and  with  what 
success  is  known.  Phenomena  and  their  laws  are  the  recognized 
objects  of  these  sciences;  substances  and  causes  are  reckoned  spuri- 
ous :  hollowness  and  superficiality  are  thus  become  the  postulates 
of  knowledge.  Yet  causes  are  past  exorcism,  and  science  runs  into 
chronic  "  goose-skin"  before  these,  its  self-constituted  foes.  But 
why  has  science  been  so  successful  ?  In  the  first  place,  it  only  half 
succeeds  when  it  sees  nothing  but  the  matter  and  none  of  the  mind 
of  nature,  for  in  this  case,  its  use  is  culinary,  and  not  educational. 
For  what  can  a  world  of  shadows,  and  rules  of  shadows,  have  to  do 
with  God  who  is  a  substance,  and  with  man  who  is  a  substance  too? 
There  is  no  real  instruction  in  formulas,  however  well  they  answer 
to  facts,  unless  one  knows  why  the  facts  come  under  the  formulas : 


304  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

otherwise  man  is  a  child  in  a  despotic  father's  house,  who  never 
knows  the  wisdom  or  rationale  of  the  father's  actions :  the  actions 
go  on  with  blind  strokes  like  toothed  wheels  in  a  factory;  and  the 
only  lesson  is,  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  this  ponderous  and  remorse- 
less nature.  On  the  other  hand,  instruction,  such  as  heart  can  love, 
and  memory  remember,  arises  in  proportion  as  we  see  that  the  ex- 
ternal world  is  nothing  but  humane  ordinances,  and  that  suns  are 
central,  systems  revolve,  plants  grow  and  fire  burns,  in  the  interest, 
and  as  the  vehicles,  of  a  Divine  Mind,  which  is  the  archetype  of  our 
own.  To  explore  God's  purposes  is  the  first  thought  of  man ;  and 
to  find  why  God  acts  in  such  ways,  shapes  and  properties,  is  equiva- 
lent to  finding  the  wisdom  of  the  world.  The  laws  and  formulas 
of  things  are  but  new  spelling  books  of  this  deeper  and  earlier  con- 
sideration. 

But  in  the  second  place,  where  science  succeeds,  it  is  because  it 
cannot  throw  away  its  heirlooms — its  instincts  of  the  humanity  of 
nature — but  applies  them  to  the  enucleation  of  natural  truth.  For 
law,  rule,  phenomena,  order  and  succession,  are  cerebral  humanities, 
which  we  get  from  things  and  give  to  things,  because  we  have  brains. 
Where  would  law  be  in  our  conceptions,  if  no  legislator  or  lawyer 
had  existed  among  mankind?  Where  would  phenomena  be  found, 
if  there  were  no  eyes  ?  Where  is  our  order,  when  the  mind  is  deli- 
rious or  in  disorder  ?  And  where  succession,  unless  time  be  ticking 
in  ourselves?  These  dim  ideas  as  much  imply  humanity  as  the 
most  carnal  Sagas  of  the  mythologies.  We  equally  palm  ourselves 
upon  things  in  averring  that  they  obey  law,  as  when  we  imagine,  in 
prattling  childhood,  that  the  flowers  hold  speeeh  with  each  other,  or 
that  falling  waters  are  moulded  into  veils  and  scarfs  by  the  limbs  of 
the  Naiads.  A  Franklin,  bottling  electricity  with  the  knowing  air 
of  a  butler,  and  "  calculating"  how  many  dozen  the  skyey  tun  will 
run,  is  as  little  emancipated  from  mannerisms  as  the  poor  Norseman 
of  fifteen  centuries  back,  who  hears  Thor  hammering  in  the  thunder- 
clap, and  sees  the  brightness  of  the  vengeance  of  the  same  God  when 
lightning  stripes  the  night  with  terror.  The  axioms  of  Euclid  are 
as  incurably  human  as  the  fairies  and  elves.  So  the  difference  be- 
tween modern  science  and  old  Myth  is  not  that  the  one  is  disem- 
bodied and  absolute,  and  the  other  fettered  to  the  flesh;  but  that  in 


THE  MIND  IS  A  MAN.  305 

science  some  cerebral  dot,  according  to  the  age,  sets  up  for  monarch, 
whereas  in  myth  the  whole  man,  all  dots  included,  is  tremblingly 
alive  to  the  existence  in  nature  of  some  living  God  or  Gods,  whom 
he  approaches  according  to  his  revelations. 

Let  us,  then,  rid  ourselves  of  the  blur,  that  man  is  limited  by 
being  a  man;  when  the  reverse  is  true,  that  what  cramps  him  is, 
that  he  is  not  a  man.  The  human  form  is  emancipation  from  the 
prison-house  of  the  inferior  creatures.  Each  man  is  indeed  limited 
as  a  man,  but  manhood  itself  is  a  ladder  of  infinites. 

The  mind,  as  we  have  anticipated,  is  in  the  human  form.  For 
it  is  in  every  part  of  the  body,  co-extensive  and  co-intensive  with 
the  organism.  This  is  only  to  say  that  we  are  conscious  of  our- 
selves. As  the  eye  sees  the  human  form  of  its  owner,  the  mind  sees 
and  feels  its  own  human  form,  though  in  its  own  peculiar  way.  We 
are  solid  statues  of  consciousness  of  just  the  size  of  the  bodily  frame. 
This  is  self-evident  when  it  is  not  dwelt  upon  too  much.  For  as 
there  are  objects  that  the  eye  is  meant  to  see  very  seldom — viz.,  the 
face  and  person  of  him  who  carries  the  eye,  so  there  are  truths  which 
the  mind,  unless  full  of  the  looking-glass,  regards  but  for  a  moment, 
and  then  leaves  them — viz.,  self-consciousness  and  its  bodily  form. 
Each  cursory  glance  of- this  kind  finds  the  mind  in  the  human  shape. 
Whence  we  know  that  the  sciences  and  subjects  of  the  mind  are 
part  and  parcel  of  the  same  constitution.* 

As  for  the  passions,  poetry  embodies  them  in  personal  lives,  but 
not  before  experience  has  well  concluded  that  they  are  the  humani- 
ties of  their  own  order.  Passions  are  men,  women,  or  children. 
Imagine  rage,  if  you  can,  without  starting  eye-balls ;  or  love  of 
power,  without  commanding  eyes  and  hands.  Think  of  eagerness 
without  legs.  Fancy  the  repose  of  a  being  who  has  nothing  to  sit 
upon;  the  intelligence  of  one  without  an  eye;  the  joy  of  one  with- 
out a  face ;  the  tenderness  of  one  without  heart  or  bowels.  The 
residuum,  after  every  conceivable  amputation  of  the  kind,  is  a  philoso- 

*  If,  however,  the  vanity  of  reflection  be  indulged  in  too  much,  philosophy  at 
first  sees  nothing  but  its  own  pretty  face  in  the  mirror,  and  then  as  it  is  an  intel- 
lectual person,  it  concentrates  itself  on  its  own  obverse  eyes,  and  falling  (by  the 
laws  of  hypnotism)  into  reverie,  it  finds  plainly  enough,  from  the  ground  of  its 
own  state,  that  the  mind  (i,  e.,  its  mind)  is  nothing  at  all. 

26* 


306  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

phical  angel.  "A  footless  stocking  without  a  leg,"  was  the  Irish- 
man's definition  of  nothing :  it  is  the  metaphysicians'  definition  of 
the  soul.  On  the  other  hand,  to  common  sense,  every  passion  has 
all  our  parts.  If  the  painter  delineates  love,  it  is  by  a  beaming  coun- 
tenance, by  clasping  hands,  by  open  arms,  by  beating  heart,  by  flush- 
ing cheeks,  by  a  bending  and  inclining  form :  or  if  the  sculptor  will 
show  you  duty,  its  white  marble  is  a  cheerful  severity  of  brow,  hand 
and  frame,  and  a  steadfastness  as  of  limbs  in  the  axis  of  the  poles  of 
the  heavens.  Moreover,  the  typical  features  which  the  imagination 
summons,  run  like  light  to  fetch  the  rest ;  they  have  a  creative  call 
to  form  the  remainder  of  the  body.  So  that  when  the  mind  sees 
the  sparkling  eye  and  elevating  smile  of  joy,  it  next,  from  these  foci, 
sees  the  face  as  their  radiant  firmament ;  and  the  lifted  arms  and 
lifting  legs,  and  the  jocund  body,  come  after  more  slowly,  until  the 
stature  is  there,  and  the  joy,  like  its  artist,  is  a  man.  But  if  any 
part  of  the  body  is  missing,  a  letter  is  left  out  of  the  word,  and  the 
creative  power  has  not  spelt  it.  All  this  shows  that  the  mind 
imagines  the  passions  structurally,  according  to  the  form  that  they 
have  when  in  play.* 

The  same  applies  to  the  intellect,  when  described  not  in  its  effects 
but  in  itself.  To  the  mind's  eye,  it  at  once  assumes  the  lofty  brow 
and  high  conversing  glance,  and  thereafter  its  incarnation  proceeds 
by  rapid  stages.  Here  again  the  central  features  are  first  struck; 
but  no  sooner  are  brow  and  eye  on  the  disk,  than  they  call  forth  their 
brethren  of  the  frame  and  mood,  for  they  all  belong  to  intelligence 
— the  clever  nose,  the  receptive  fastidious  mouth,  the  slanted  open 
ear,  the  considering  vibrative  head,  the  awaiting  arms,  the  balancing 
body,  the  movable  feet,  stationary  but  changeful.  All  these  come 
part  by  part  from  the  land  of  the  human  form,  drawn  thither  by  in- 
telligence itself  with  the  magnet  of  the  eye.  In  this  case,  what  we 
take  for  abstraction  is  the  centre  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
body,  and  held  forcibly  apart ;  for  violence  is  needed  to  hold  asunder 

*  On  this  subject  see  further,  An  Essay  upon  the  Ghost-Belief  of  Shalspeare, 
by  Alfred  Rofle,  8vo.,  London,  1851.  In  this  admirable  performance  we  have 
the  first  beginning  of  a  study  of  Shakspeare,  not  according  to  reasoning  and  criti- 
cism, but  according  to  fact  and  nature.  It  cheers  me  to  have  such  a  mind  as  this 
courageous  author's  with  me,  in  these  untrodden  paths. 


THE  MIND  IS  A  MAN.  307 

elements  which  so  love  each  other,  and  rush  together,  as  do  the  parts 
of  man.  Pale  philosophy,  indeed,  has  attempted  to  draw  a  sharp 
cut  of  spells  between  the  round  pellucid  intellect,  and  the  face  of 
which  it  is  the  jewel.  But  as  it  sits  in  its  dissecting-room  with  plate- 
fuls  of  human  eyes  before  it,  we  recognize  in  the  amount  of  its 
victims  the  exact  number  of  its  failures. 

We  might  pursue  this  thread  of  truth  through  every  other  faculty ; 
and  we  should  then  record,  that  goodness,  virtue,  honor,  bravery, 
industry,  and  all  the  names  that  we  revere,  are  man  and  the  organs 
of  man,  and  that  out  of  him  and  his  they  are  nothing.  But  it  is 
enough  to  indicate  one  or  two  cases,  for  these,  as  the  eyes  and  fore- 
head of  the  rest,  bring  with  them  the  predicates  entire  of  the  human 
world,  and  marshal  them  into  its  form.  We  now,  then,  pass  on  to 
the  sciences,  to  notice  their  impartial  teaching  in  spheres  where  man 
seems  to  cease,  and  to  be  environed  by  apparently  intractable,  that 
is  to  say,  inhuman  forms. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  have  recourse  to  any  ideal  state  of  the 
sciences;  but  their  present  condition  serves  to  show,  that  humanity 
by  its  principles  extends  through  the  realms  of  beasts  and  fishes, 
herbs  and  stones,  and  even  through  winds  and  the  fluid  worlds.  For 
the  instinct  of  science  in  all  these  departments,  drills  their  subjects 
with  reference  to  order,  the  ends  of  which  order  are,  mind  in  the  one 
case  and  matter  in  the  other — mind,  the  intellectual  plenum  of  the 
human  form — and  matter,  the  stages  of  nature  that  lead  from  her 
deadness  up  to  that  life  which  is  the  perfect  man.  The  schemes  of 
the  atheists  are  obedient  to  this  roll-call,  for  otherwise  they  would 
not  cohere  into  schemes ;  their  vile  scientific  cunning  can  exist  on 
no  other  terms.  The  difference  between  them  and  the  religious 
world  is,  that  they  have  the  task  of  making  man  out  of  the  ground 
by  their  own  dust-strife,  whereas  the  others  hold  that  he  is  ready 
made  out  of  that  very  dust  by  the  breath  of  Jehovah  God :  but  in 
both  cases  the  dust  is  recognized  as  a  fit  material  for  building  into 
the  plan  of  the  human  form.  There  is  then  an  admitted  reference 
of  the  dust  to  man,  and  this,  when  put  by  experience  through  its 
degrees,  constitutes  the  order  of  the  sciences. 

With  regard  to  the  organic  sciences,  the  case  is  clear :  their  aim 


308  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

is,  to  range  living  beings  in  a  scale  of  which  man  is  the  head,  and 
to  set  down  the  lower  animals  as  extended  cases  of  the  human 
type.  "The  animal  kingdom/'  says  Oken,  "is  man  disintegrated." 
Comparative  anatomy  is  the  anatomy  of  the  beasts  compared  to  that 
of  man.  Take  the  animal  forms  one  by  one,  and  their  likeness 
does  not  perhaps  clearly  shine  inwards  to  their  chief,  but  group 
them  severally  upon  the  order  of  the  mind,  which  is  science;  and 
unlikeness  travels  into  likeness  as  they  approach  the  human  goal. 
As  in  languages  a  word  shall  seem  alien  to  its  root,  but  track  it 
through  a  number  of  kindreds  and  tongues,  and  the  links  are  sup- 
plied that  connect  it  with  its  source,  and  draw  it  from  its  parental 
stem.  So  man  is  the  word  to  which  this  social  science  of  compara- 
tive anatomy  leads  up  the  forms  of  animal  life,  and  Adam  still  in 
this  way  gives  all  living  things  their  names. 

This  is  better  the  case  with  natural  history,  which  leaves  dead 
bones  and  ghoul  sciences  to  become  acquainted  with  animals  at  home 
in  their  gayeties  and  enjoyments.  The  portraits  of  man  are  so  close 
here,  that  the  naturalist  associates  with  his  pets,  and  a  White  of 
Selbourne  can  spend  a  long  day  with  his  swallows,  Huber  with  his 
bees,  Wilson  with  his  acarus  fotticulorum,  and  Swammerdam  with 
his  snails.  Moreover,  we  judge  the  animals  by  our  own  standards 
of  pleasure  and  pain,  attribute  to  them  a  part  of  our  metaphysics 
(would  they  took  them  all) ;  and  assign  them  natural  virtues  and 
vices  for  which  they  are  responsible  with  their  lives.  We  also 
reverse  the  case,  and  feel  no  inappropriateness  in  giving  our  brethern 
animal  names,  making  a  comparative  natural  history  out  of  the 
eccentricities  of  man;  for  we  have  human  asses,  geese,  pigs,  foxes, 
tigers,  monkeys,  peacocks;  nay,  in  some  cases  we  qualify  humanity 
by  an  animal  color;  as  when  we  say  that  an  innocent  person  is  a 
lamb;  a  gentle  beauty,  a  dove;  or  a  heroic  man,  a  lion:  which 
shows  well  the  sliding  scale  from  man  to  nature,  in  the  easy  projec- 
tion of  ideals  into  these  distant  but  beautiful  types.  The  symbol- 
ism of  the  Bible  makes  animals  thus  expressive.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  interpret  them  by  our  own  faculties,  though  reason  knows 
that  the  faculties  between  the  two  are  not  the  same  but  analogous. 
But  the  interpretation  holds  all  the  better;  for  it  embraces  the 
animal  fact,  plus  an  intellect  that  enlightens  it.     This  is  one  fnnc- 


HUMANITY  IN  THE  ANIMALS.  309 

tion  of  man  in  his  social  universe — to  give  his  life  away  to  beast, 
plant  and  stone,  and  raise  them  into  company  for  his  mind :  a  func- 
tion like  the  Creator's,  who  makes  all  quasi-ihmgs  into  substances, 
mere  substances  into  minds,  and  unites  the  world  and  men  to  him- 
self by  nothing  peculiar  to  them,  but  by  the  golden  links  of  his 
own  merciful  attributions.  Imputing  the  higher  to  the  lower  is 
therefore  hearty  truth  running  Godwards,  or  the  process  by  which 
universes  are  made  and  kept.  Hence  it  is  our  duty  to  give  the 
stones  a  tongue,  and  to  cover  it  with  all  the  runes  of  our  own  elo- 
quence and  wisdom.  .  .  .  Furthermore,  there  is  common  companion- 
ship of  men  with  animals,  and  duties  from  him  to  them,  which 
duties  have  the  significant  name  of  humanity,  as  though  the  humane 
man  recognized  his  species  wherever  life  was  seen.  And  according 
to  the  materialist,  this  is  true  to  the  very  mire ;  for  they  deem  that 
there  is  no  difference  between  men  and  beasts  but  the  want  of  speech 
in  the  latter,  and  the  absence  of  tails  in  the  former;  which  shows 
a  strong  dirty  perception  on  their  part  of  the  oneness  of  principle 
prevading  life :  a  principle  which  if  sought  at  the  head — for  in  the 
matter  of  the  tail  they  admit  unlikeness — resolves  itself  into  the 
prevalence  of  man.  Again,  man  never  falls  below  himself,  but 
animality  receives  him  with  open  arms :  "  nemo  unquam  repente  fuit 
turpissimus :"  on  the  road  to  moral  death,  before  the  descender  is 
as  dead  as  a  stone,  he  runs  through  the  beast  properties,  transmut- 
ing form  and  feature  right  down  the  devil's  ark,  and  at  last  crawls, 
serpentwise  and  toadwise,  into  his  chasm  and  block  of  a  thousand 
years.  And  lastly  the  animals,  to  conclude  their  manly  participa- 
tions, are  many  of  them  direct  and  even  domestic  servants  of  man- 
kind: they  share  our  lot,  of  poverty  and  riches,  good  and  evil, 
civilization  and  savagery:  they  become  honest,  or  sly,  according  to 
the  rule  of  their  master's  house;  showing  that  they  are  willing 
fellows.  And  as  the  domestication  decreases  by  degrees,  and 
embraces  main  generic  heads,  the  whole  animal  kingdom  may  be 
grouped  about  us  from  this  principle,  either  in  the  way  of  friends 
or  foes;  and  thus  approve  a  human  reference  of  this  close  kind,  co- 
extensive with  natural  history. 

The  science  of  plants  falls  under  humanity  for  similar  but  lower 
reasons  to  that  of  the  animals.      For  their  natural  history  is  di- 


310  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

gested  into  botany,  in  which  they  assume  order,  classes,  species,  and 
families;  and  the  order  is  subject  to  that  of  the  kingdoms  them- 
selves, and  included  within  it.  But  being  a  vegetative  or  growing 
order,  and  not  an  animal  or  moving  order,  it  does  not  travel  to  man, 
but  enters  into  him  by  his  own  choice.  Hence  the  uses  of  the  plants 
are  their  chief  human  relations.  For  the  plants,  like  factory  men, 
begin  to  feed  and  clothe  us;  they  spin  our  cottons  in  vegetable 
Manchesters,  and  are  the  looms  of  looms,  in  which  the  Arkwrights 
of  the  sap  and  pod  herald  and  provoke  the  Arkwrights  of  the  mill. 
In  this  kingdom  there  are  all  things  not  made  with  hands,  in  pre- 
paration for  all  similars  to  be  made  with  hands,  and  this  again  in 
earnest  of  a  new  growth  in  heaven,  where  all  things  not  made  with 
hands  again  appear.  And  the  more  good  science  we  bring  to  bear, 
the  more  humane  do  the  plants  become ;  in  other  words,  we  find 
that  they  are  altogether  useful,  that  is  to  say,  grow  towards  us; 
until  at  length  we  see  all  the  trees  as  one  tree,  whose  fruits  are  good 
for  food,  and  its  leaves  for  medicine.  More  remotely,  plants  are 
our  anatomical  brethren  ;  they  have  sap  like  blood,  and  leaves  like 
lungs,  skin  and  limbs,  and  roots  of  stomachs  also,  each  of  their  own 
order.  They  also  have  seed  and  progency,  and  in  their  green  ambi- 
tion, they  tend  to  people  all  earths,  and  to  build  airy  castles  like 
our  own,  raising  up  the  soil  on  their  hods  in  wooden  galleries  to  the 
clouds.  Moreover  they  are  symbolical,  or  humane  to  our  sentiments, 
with  which  they  easily  tremble  and  glow ;  and  in  the  same  light 
they  are  biblical,  or  humane  to  the  divine,  leading  him  from  para- 
dise, the  harmonious  garden,  to  that  city  in  the  midst  of  whose 
street  there  was  still  the  tree  of  life.  And  as  the  domesticated  ani- 
mals stand  at  the  head  of  the  animal  kingdom  according  to  one  mode 
of  classification,  so  the  useful  plants  occupy  the  first  ranks  in  the 
vegetable  kingdom :  and  constituting  the  beginnings  of  series,  sum- 
mon the  rest  about  them,  and  group  their  whole  realm  around  man. 
Again,  the  mineral  kingdom  is  humane,  because  it  is  included  in 
the  scheme  of  order,  or  the  mental  humanity ;  and  because  it  sup- 
ports the  vegetable,  which  grows  up  to  the  animal,  which  travels 
towards  man.  And  here  be  it  observed,  that  each  realm  has  its  own 
approach  to  us.  The  animal  makes  its  way  thither  by  a  scale  of 
likening  forms  and  functions ;  it  looks  and  acts  as  if  it  were  human, 


HYPOTHESES  OF  THE  WORLD.  311 

to  a  certain  extent.  The  vegetable,  on  the  other  hand,  bears  no 
resemblance  to  the  whole  man,  nor  does  it  act  at  all;  it  likens  to  us 
in  being  of  use ;  and  whether  it  be  as  fruit  and  flavor  to  our  bodies, 
or  as  beauty  and  symbolism  to  our  minds  and  souls,  this  same  law 
holds  :  the  law,  namely,  not  of  progression  to  man,  but  of  use  en- 
tering into  progression.  This  use  is  the  making  up  of  substances 
into  new  forms  to  serve  us.  Support,  however,  is  the  human  pro- 
perty of  the  mineral  kingdom,  and  in  all  cases  terra  jlrma  is  its 
kindness  to  us.  It  stands  under  all  things,  and  bears  their  burdens; 
and  in  all  things  it  still  stands  under  them,  and  makes  them  real. 
For  it  not  only  supports  the  stems  of  trees,  and  the  feet  of  animals 
and  men,  but  it  supports  the  vegetative  process  in  the  one  case,  and 
the  animal  life  in  the  other ;  so  that  without  it  the  trees  would  be 
but  plans  of  trees,  and  the  animals  but  illusions.  Its  gold,  unlike 
paper,  is  the  earth  of  credit,  by  which  solidity  enters  into  commerce. 
Its  salts  are  the  earth  of  the  blood,  without  which  that  soulful  or- 
ganism would  be  footless,  or  without  a  base.  Its  rocks  are  the 
surety  of  foundations  for  houses,  otherwise  than  sand  and  mould. 
Its  jewels  are  stern  flowers  that  shine  in  spite  of  the  seasons.  Its 
stones  make  our  palaces  and  prisons,  which  are  the  ultimo  ratio  of 
our  arts  and  laws.  It  also  supports  the  soul  as  well  as  the  body, 
and  give  our  ideas  a  terrene  base,  of  resistance,  hardness,  perma- 
nence, steadiness,  and  much  else  which  is  low,  moral  and  strong,  so 
that  to  the  soul  the  very  ground  is  terra  firma  to  justice  and  virtue. 
Nothing  of  this  could  be,  unless  the  earth  were  coordinate  with 
man,  that  is  to  say,  in  its  own  remoteness,  humane. 

The  three  kingdoms  have  also  succeeded  each  other  as  the  organa 
of  so  many  hypotheses  of  the  world  ;  thereby  attesting  that  they 
themselves  belong  to  an  afliliated  scale.  Thus  we  have  the  idea  that 
the  world  is  an  animal ;  a  conception  attributed  to  Plato,  but  not, 
so  far  as  we  know,  carried  out  in  detail.  A  second  idea  of  the 
world  is  spiral  or  vegetable,  and  works  the  hypothesis  of  develop- 
ment instinctively  through  all  things  :  according  to  this  conception 
worlds  grow  :  it  has  been  a  favorite  notion  with  races  who  have 
lost  their  revelations,  and  was  set  forth  in  that  Scandinavian  myth 
of  the  Ash  Yggdrasil,  which  ash  was  in  fact  the  universe  :  it  sprang 
out  of  depths  which  no  God  or  man  knew ;  beside  its  root  was  the 


312  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

weird  or  Urdar  fountain  where  the  Norns  or  fates  abode ;  its  branches 
were  heavens  and  earths,  the  giant-world,  the  man-world,  and  the 
dwarf-world :  and  every  morning  the  Norns  repaired  its  many  wast- 
ings  by  lading  over  its  head  from  the  Mimer  spring  the  dews  of  im- 
mortality. A  third  notion  of  the  mundane  order  is,  that  the 
world  is  dead  or  mineral :  this  belongs  to  the  old  age  of  hypothesis, 
and  to  the  youth  of  cold  experience :  accordingly,  on  this  view,  the 
planet  is  hoary  with  immeasurable  years,  the  stiff-kneed  laws  of  to- 
day presided  over  its  cradle ;  if  indeed  it  ever  had  an  infancy,  and 
were  not  senile  from  the  beginning.  The  completion  of  this  stony 
truth  takes  place  in  geology,  which  is  a  kind  of  mineralogy  of  larger 
growth.  Yet  as  geology,  or  the  science  of  the  great  crust,  de- 
tects order  and  mutuality  in  the  earth,  so  it  begins  to  revert  by  ana- 
logy to  organization  j  just  as  crystallography  points  its  dry  spicular 
nails  towards  vegetation.  Again,  a  fourth  view  is,  that  the  world 
is  quasi-human,  or  indeed  superhuman,  in  its  parts  and  in  the  whole. 
On  this  score,  the  planet  unites  with  man ;  the  head  races  inhabit 
its  head  countries  ;  in  short,  the  human  organs  reappear  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  globe,  and  account  as  well  as  they  may  for  its  relations 
and  distributions,  and  for  its  housing  of  special  nations.  These 
hypotheses  run  in  a  strict  and  mutually  suggesting  series,  and  either 
all  of  them  are  true,  or  none.  But  we  do  not  moot  their  truth,  but 
adduce  them  to  show  that  hypothesis  has  been  consistent  from  the 
first ;  that  has  always  handled  the  world  as  some  analogue  of  man; 
and  we  will  add,  though  it  is  beside  our  present  object,  that  the 
hypotheses  deeply  imbedded  within  modern  science,  are  the  fag- 
ends  of  those  which  shone  candidly  out  from  the  ancient  mytholo- 
gies. For  ourselves,  the  truths  of  revelation  are  our  hypothesis, 
and  we  hold  that  the  worlds,  dead  and  living,  include  every  attribute 
that  others  have  assigned  to  them,  not  as  their  own,  but  because 
they  are  full  of  the  spirit  of  Providence,  and  under  Him  intend 
man  in  their  courses.  Thus  we  accept  all  analogies  as  tools  to  work 
with,  but  none  as  a  rest. 

To  conclude  this  scale,  the  unattached  natures,  waters,  atmo- 
spheres and  the  like,  are  our  circumstantial  relations,  the  support  of 
our  liberties  and  fluids  as  the  ground  is  the  substance  to  our  feet. 
Blood  and  water,  breath  and  air,  light  and  sight,  are  playmates  in- 


CONSENT  OF  PARTIES  TO  HUMANITY.  813 

troduced  from  of  old.  The  vitals  also  of  nature,  the  nervous  suns, 
enclosed  in  their  rib-work  and  grate-work  of  planetary  masses,  are 
among  outward  things  most  kindred  to  us,  and  lend  themselves  to 
joy  and  exhilaration  for  all  that  lives.  In  their  other  considera- 
tions, as  the  mundane  system,  they  offer  us  great  helps  of  order  and 
law )  and  enriching  without  dissipating  our  minds,  remodel  our  first 
notions  upon  creation,  and  our  faculties  rightly  applied  to  the  uni- 
verse, become  mightily  more  human  for  the  process. 

The  pure  sciences,  the  abstract  truths  of  the  rest,  are  themselves 
the  laws  of  mind  transplanted  into  matter ;  they  are  therefore,  as 
we  said  before,  cerebrally  human  (p.  304),  and  indeed  only  true 
within  the  sphere  of  our  faculties.  There  is  no  escape  anywhere 
from  humanity:  there  we  fully  agree  with  the  subjective  school; 
but  the  reason  is,  that  humanity  enfolds  everything,  and  not  ex- 
cludes us  from,  but  lets  us  into,  the  veriest  nature  of  the  world. 
But  it  is  well  to  be  observed,  that  there  is  no  Kantian  world  of 
"  things  in  themselves,"  but  the  world  is  social  to  the  core. 

In  the  view  we  have  taken,  we  have  with  us  the  attestations  of 
all  parties.  The  theologians  are  with  us,  by  the  text  and  scope  of 
their  revelations.  The  superstitious  are  with  us,  by  their  crouch- 
ing anthropomorphic  worship  ;  by  their  fear  of  eclipses,  as  though 
their  god's  eye  were  black  upon  them ;  by  their  tremble  before  all 
places  and  natures,  lest  the  .  tapestry  of  their  world  should  open, 
and  stiffen  them  with  some  gliding  terror.  The  idealists,  or  meta- 
physical ghosts,  are  with  us,  by  their  creed  that  man  cannot  travel 
beyond  himself,  but  that  sense  and  its  world  is  still  within  the  circle 
of  our  being.  The  materialists  are  with  us,  by  their  vaunted  alli- 
ance with  the  dust;  for  are  they  not  "spouse  of  the  worm,  and 
brother  of  the  clay  V  The  scientific  are  with  us  by  the  actual 
order  of  their  sciences,  and  because  they  cannot  help  it.  And  the 
practical  men,  including  the  rest  of  the  world,  are  with  us,  in  their 
own  practical  way,  for  not  one  of  them  cares  a  rush  for  nature  ir- 
relevant to  man,  and  contributing  in  no  sense  either  to  goodness, 
enjoyment,  the  pocket,  or  the  person.  We  now  therefore  require, 
that  what  all  have  in  part,  shall  be  corrected  and  completed  in  each, 
and  that  the  truth  of  the  all-embracing  humanity  shall  be  set  in 
that  matrix  which  opens  and  hungers  to  receive  it. 
27 


314  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

It  is  further  to  be  observed,  that  impersonality  is  human,  jus 
like  personality,  the  latter  being  the  skin  of  which  the  former  k 
the  substance  (pp.  285,  288)  \  a  substance  however  which  is  no 
substance  without  that  skin  to  hold  it.  For  the  best  things  in  us 
are  impersonal,  and  the  more  they  are,  the  better  persons  we  be- 
come (p.  285).  Upon  this  principle,  physical  as  well  as  moral, 
the  impersonal  in  nature  communes  with  a  proportionate  impersonal 
in  ourselves  (p.  285). 

We  have  already  trenched  somewhat  upon  the  other  side  of  this 
question,  namely,  the  relation  of  the  arts  to  the  human  form,  and 
we  have  hinted  that  poetry,  painting  and  sculpture  always  act  per- 
sonally and  dramatically  with  their  highest  subjects,  which  are  the 
human  actions  and  passions  (p.  305).  A  Michael  Angelo  uses  no 
theory,  and  makes  no  apology,  when  he  throngs  his  Sistine  Chapel 
with  glorious  human  forms  as  the  attributes  of  God  and  man :  the 
admiring  sea  of  ages  of  hearts  and  heads  underneath  him,  finds 
no  fault  with  such  impersonations.  But  art  extends  far  below  these 
regions ;  and  as  we  have  noticed  throughout,  there  is  an  art  in  science 
itself,  which  blindly  musters  its  kingdoms  under  the  human  form. 
The  useful  arts  again,  the  sisters  of  the  material  or  culinary  sciences, 
aim  to  reconstitute  nature  into  human  images  closer  and  more  com- 
modious than  at  first.  The  mission  of  these  arts  consists  in  mak- 
ing nature  into  the  wraith  and  image  of  history.  For  this  purpose 
the  world  underground  is  a  mine  ;  its  iron  must  not  lie  waste  in 
those  old  lockers  of  the  veins,  but  it  is  drawn  into  rails,  girders, 
ribs  of  ships,  stalwart  engines  and  vertebral  bridges;  and  the 
nations  look  on  their  continents  as  worms  full  of  this  metal  silk,  out  c. 
whose  bellies  untold  glancing  cities  shall  be  spun.  The  geologies  of 
the  arts  are  new  strata  above-ground,  inhabited  tier  after  tier  by  the 
centuries;  so  that  nature,  besides  the  Plutonic  and  diluvian,  includes 
also  the  humanitary  formations,  and  is  never  natural  until  she  en- 
velopes all  the  arts  in  marriage  with  all  the  natures.  The  mission  of 
the  husbandman  and  the  cultivator  of  stock  adds  new  varieties  to  exist- 
ing species  of  animals  and  plants,  and  nature  embraces  the  new  with 
the  old  in  a  tighter  maternity  than  at  first :  her  grandmotherly  love  in- 
creases with  posterity,  and  ascends  hotter  and  brighter  to  her  children's 
children.     In  a  word,  use  and  cultivation  by  humanity  are  accepted 


HUMANIZING  MISSION  OF  THE  ARTS.  315 

by  nature  as  her  own  consummation  of  her  plan.  Hence,  what 
expresses  all  these  facts,  there  is  not  a  place  or  thing  in  the  known 
world  but  comes  under  the  notion  of  property,  evidently  on  the  in- 
sight that  all  things  are  man's,  and  may  be  of  use ;  and  so  he  regis- 
ters his  claim  to  their  reversion  when  he  wants  them.  Thus  the 
planet  has  an  intra-social  existence,  and  the  men  who  denounce  our 
pride  in  claiming  all  things  for  the  race,  hold  their  estates  by  title- 
deeds  of  a  later  credit,  and  by  weaker  seals  than  that  of  this  an- 
cient faith.  In  evidence  of  this,  the  flag  of  property,  either  indi- 
vidual ornational,  waves  over  every  region,  from  the  northern  to  the 
southern  ice;  and  gives  Christian  names  and  surnames  to  capes  and 
headlands,  bays  and  islands ;  mine  and  thine  are  the  zenith  and 
nadir  of  the  willing  earth  in  the  grasp  of  mankind.  But  what  cul- 
tivation and  re-formation  is  to  the  ground,  that  is  regeneration  to 
the  mind,  and  reform  to  the  state ;  and  as  the  mind  and  the  state 
become  more  human  as  the  rights  of  the  soul  and  the  society  enter 
into  and  alter  them,  so  does  the  world  become  more  natural  in  pro- 
portion as  the  cultivator  stamps  his  humanity  upon  it.  There  is 
more  nature  in  that  prophecied  nature  where  the  wilderness  blossoms 
as  the  rose,  than  where  the  sand  alone  extends. 

We  should  have  enough  to  do  with  objections  if  our  intention 
cared  that  way  :  but  we  will  briefly  consider  only  two.  1.  The 
"  moral"  objection,  that  there  is  great  pride  in  man,  a  little  statue 
of  dust,  a  crowd  of  pismires  on  a  hillock,  a  mote  in  the  sunbeam, 
&c,  &c,  conceiting  that  all  things  are  his,  when  yet  nature  is  so 
much  bigger  than  he.  But  to  this  we  say,  that  all  men  act  on  this 
belief,  and  the  more  faithfully,  the  better  it  is  for  the  world  about 
them.  The  savages  believe  it  least,  and  give  nature  the  greatest 
swing  of  laissez  /aire;  the  consequence  is,  that  she  is  a  dirty  and 
undressed  female,  snaky-haired,  under  their  feet.  Humility  how- 
ever consists  in  obeisance  to  the  truth,  and  if  man  is  nature's  king, 
he  must  not  be  too  proud  to  wear  her  crown ;  for  pride  may  rise  on 
that  side  also.  Kingship  is  either  nothing,  or  the  chiefest  service; 
and  if  all  things  are  for  man,  it  is  because  he  alone  can  make  the 
best  of  them.  Humanity  through  industry  is  the  very  dew  that 
the  Norns  lade  every  day  over  the  good  ash,  Yggdrasil  (p.  311). 
For  the  rest,  this  "  humble"  objection  is  always  made  with  a  lordly 


316  THE  HUMAN  FOEM. 

and  exulting  voice,  and  in  abdicating  nature's  crown,  it  treads  upon 
pride  with  greater  pride  of  its  own.  We  suspect  that  it  proceeds 
from  dislike  of  work,  for  certainly  the  duties  of  the  opposite  view 
are  sufficiently  stupendous.  The  true  humility  then,  we  argue, 
lies  in  man  taking  his  hard,  high  place  with  its  responsibilities — 
the  place  that  he  has  in  history  and  property,  as  the  lord  of  the 
visible  earth.  Let  him  accept  the  title-deeds,  and  obey  the  declara- 
tions, of  his  Genesis.  The  higher  the  station,  the  higher  the 
humility. 

But  on  the  other  hand  we  will  not  grant,  that  nature  is  so  much 
bigger  than  man  as  to  escape  his  handling.  For  if  the  world  be 
providentially  coordinate  with  him,  then  as  he  is,  so  will  it  be ; 
or  in  other  words  the  threads  of  the  mundane  Noras  are  managed 
in  that  end  of  them  which  constitutes  our  human  nature.  A  world 
made  by  the  Word  is  plastic  to  the  Word,  and  the  Word  in  its 
second  projection  exists  in  man  alone.  It  is  then  a  part  of  our 
faith  in  Providence,  to  believe  that  the  magnetism  as  well  as  the 
handiworks  of  good  men  and  good  societies,  are  the  first  beginning 
of  the  natural  laws ;  and  that  there  is  nothing  so  ponderous  as  to 
outlie  the  power  of  the  moral  and  spiritual  kings  (pp.  238,  239). 
The  harvests  and  rain- clouds  of  Judea  were  once  obedient  to  the 
obedience  of  its  nation  to  God  :  how  if  nature  now  be  equally 
symbolic  and  ready ;  and  for  new  springing  of  theocratic  crops, 
only  await  a  new  Judea  in  which  the  whole  earth  shall  be  a  Holy 
Land? 

2.  A  word  also  to  the  intellectual  objection,  that  other  creatures 
besides  man  doubtless  look  out  from  their  places  as  central  points, 
consider  themselves  as  foci,  and  the  universe  as  their  subject 
and  servant.  "  See  man  for  me,  exclaimed  a  lordly  goose." 
(N.  B.,  the  sly  poet  puts  this  into  the  neb  of  a  goose.)  Were  such 
the  fact,  it  would  only  show,  that  the  animals  are  images  of  man 
in  these  perceptions,  and  that  in  the  wide  madhouse  of  animal ity, 
they  all  conceit  themselves  kings  and  potentates.  But  are  there 
signs  that  it  is  a  fact  ?  Has  an  ass  with  ribs  belabored,  anything 
like  our  perception,  that  we  are  "  lords  of  what  we  survey  V  With 
regard  to  our  slaves,  and  even  our  lower  classes,  they  do  not 
imagine  that  the  state  is  for  them  ;  on  the  contrary,  they  complain 


OBJECTIONS  REMOVED.  317 

that  they  are  out  of  the  social  scheme,  which  is  only  for  their 
betters ;  and  although  they  build  up  a  little  hovel  of  content  in  the 
midst  of  their  sad  inclemencies,  yet  they  do  not  consider  that  the 
body  politic  exists  for  their  behoof.  True,  it  ought  to  do  so ;  but 
the  fact  that  it  does  not,  shows  a  power  above  theirs.  So  it  is 
with  the  animals.  Those  which  bear  our  burdens  either  deem 
nothing  at  all ;  or  supposing  them  to  deem,  that  exonerates  them 
from  the  charge  of  stupidity  which  we  make,  when  we  say  that  the 
cow  knows  nothing  of  the  supremacy  of  the  milkman ;  the  dog,  of 
the  huntsman  and  lash  •  or  the  horse  of  the  spurred  and  whip- 
provided  rider.  It  is  however  the  want  of  deeming  that  makes  the 
want  of  the  thing  deemed ;  and  man  is  at  the  head  because  he 
knows  and  feels  it.  Vice  versa,  the  animals  are  subordinate  partly 
because  they  do  not  know  their  situation,  and  never  can  be  taught  it. 

The  argument  on  this  score  has  been  pushed  by  animals'  friends, 
to  invalidate  the  humanity  of  the  Divine  Nature.  For  while  it  is 
admitted  that  all  our  conceptions  of  God  are  human,  it  is  contended 
that  if  man  has  a  God-man,  a  cow,  could  it  imagine,  would  frame  a 
cow-god  ;  a  dog,  a  dog-god  ;  and  so  forth.  But  imprimis,  none  of 
these  creatures  can  imagine  in  this  direction,  which  terminates  the 
argument.  And  secondly,  if  they  worshipped  what  was  visibly 
above  them,  they  would  worship  man,  who  is  in  such  a  sense  their 
providence,  that  Bacon  has  wittily  cited,  that  man  is  the  god  of  the 
dog.  The  assertion  then  comes  again  to  an  end,  and  shows  that  in 
all  respects  the  living  creatures  look  to  humanity.  For  ourselves, 
had  we  any  experience  of  a  being  transcending  the  human  form, 
whose  mastery  over  us  was  undoubted,  this,  we  grant,  must  give 
the  form  by  which  our  God  would  reign.  But  no  such  being  has 
intervened  in  history,  either  in  the  solemn  night,  or  in  the  daylight 
of  religions :  on  the  contrary,  the  Highest  has  declared  that  man 
is  made  in  his  image,  and  that  his  Son  is  also  the  Son  of  man.  In 
short,  we  find  the  human  form,  divinely  augmented,  burning  with 
uncontrolled  intensity  in  the  thought  of  man,  in  the  records  of 
inspiration,  and  in  the  religions  of  nature ;  and  this  with  its  attri- 
butes, though  often  unseen,  is  a  real  .presence  in  every  temple. 

There  are  indeed  religions  which  do  not  accept  the  central  sym- 
bol ;  there  are  animal,  vegetable,  and  mineral  religions ;  for  men 

27* 


«°,18  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

bow  down  to  wood  and  stone,  beast  and  bird,  in  all  fantastic  forms. 
There  are  also  fossil  religions,  records  obscure  and  terrifying  of  past 
conditions  of  our  race  ;  hieroglyphics  too  large  to  live  in  our  petty 
present  time ;  and  which  speak  of  warmth  and  fertility  in  regions 
of  the  mind  now  cold  and  dead ;  of  great  perceptions  and  mighty 
propagations ;  gigantic  promises  of  the  world's  childhood,  only  to 
be  justified  in  her  second  innocency.  Again,  above  and  around 
these  solid  creeds  we  have  the  philosophical  religions,  the  sciences 
of  the  atmosphere  of  the  religious  world,  or  the  theologic  wind  ;* 
pretences  to  regard  Deity  under  no  form,  and  as  "  neither  in  body 
mankind  resembling,  neither  in  ideas."  But  as  the  reader  now 
foresees,  each  of  these  creeds  has  the  same  principle,  namely,  the 
human  form,  which  is  portrayed  in  the  atmosphere  as  in  the  earth, 
in  the  vegetable  as  in  the  mineral,  and  in  the  animal  as  in  the 
vegetable.  Abstract  philosophy  is  the  furthest  of  all  from  the 
centre  :  idolatry  itself  falls  more  easily  under  that  rank  and  disci- 
pline of  natures  which  leads  to  Christianity,  or  the  Omnipotent 
Human  Form. 

But  the  skeptical  ghost  still  haunts  us,  for  are  there  not  higher 
beings  than  man,  whose  form  is  consequently  above  the  human. 
Truly  such  beings  there  are,  known  from  of  old  under  the  names  of 
angels  and  spirits;  but  then  their  form  is  the  human.  For  the 
human  is  a  traveling  form,  which  reaches  from  man  to  God,  and 
involves  all  beings  as  it  goes.  There  are  then  men  higher  than  man, 
but  there  is  none  superior  to  the  human  form,  which  itself  is  supe- 
riority advancing  for  ever  to  the  supreme.  Revelation  declares  as 
much  as  this,  for  if  the  human  form  is  the  image  of  God,  there  can 
be  no  more  eminent  form. 

However,  what  we  call  the  human  form,  is  doubtless  the  least 
truth  and  manifestation  of  that  Divine  image.  For  minds,  souls, 
societies,  nations  are  themselves  in  this  form.  But  time  fails  us  to 
attempt  a  flight  through  these  second  spheres,  and  we  must  leave  to 
other  hands  the  tracing  of  manliness  through  polities  and  socialities, 

=*  The  sensuality  of  creeds  which  oppose  nothing  but  flatus  and  criticism  to 
the  instigations  of  the  flesh,  is  set  forth  in  that  hieroglyphical  proverb,  that  "  pigs 
see  the  wind,"  which  marvelously  signifies  the  lace  to  face  posture  of  stolidity 
and  abstraction. 


LAST  RESORTS  OF  PHYSIOLOGY.  319 

■which  are  the  laws  of  the  collective  human  being.  But  in  the  mean- 
time the  reader  easily  sees  that  man  on  the  greatest  scale  is  more 
man  than  he  on  the  least. 

We  seem  in  all  this  to  be  wide  of  what  is  called  physiology  and 
science;  but  on  we  go,  for  science  cannot  subsist  without  these 
heights  at  last.  What  we  desire  added  to  all,  is  a  divine  physiology, 
flowing  according  to  the  channels  of  the  divine  form  into  which  we 
men  are  born.  For  there  is  no  life  in  science  unless  it  communi- 
cates with  the  fountains  of  its  subjects;  no  resource  in  art  or  healing, 
except  from  the  draw  and  gush  of  the  same  living  waters.  There- 
fore we  have  done  our  best  to  show,  what  the  contents  of  the  human 
body  are,  and  what  pressures  of  life  it  stands  under.  For  it  is  the 
form  of  God;  as  it  said  in  Psalms,  we  are  His  temples:  and  so  it  is 
the  native  land  of  hope,  and  the  arena  of  miracles  and  providences : 
there  is  nothing  which  it  cannot  do,  and  nothing  that  cannot  be  done 
with  it,  according  to  its  correspondence  with  the  Most  High.  It  is 
also  the  form  of  spirit  and  heaven,  and  the  heights  of  Zion  and  the 
abysses  of  hell  are  within  it,  circumpressing  and  acting  upon  it,  ac- 
cording to  its  correspondence  with  good  and  bad,  and  the  other  roots 
of  man,  his  body  and  his  mind.  It  is  therefore  a  pipe  which  runs 
with  every  wine,  angelic  or  demonic.  Again,  it  is  the  centre  of 
history,  and  the  life  of  the  world  plays  upon  it  from  without,  and 
brings  forth  tones  which  are  myth  and  song,  strife  and  triumph,  the 
fullness  of  the  eras.  Moreover  it  is  the  parliament  of  the  natural 
sciences,  and  the  executive  and  army  of  the  arts,  into  which  know- 
ledge arises  and  speaks,  and  from  which  power  goes  forth.  Thus 
what  it  finally  does  and  can  is  by  these  rules  alone — that  it  is  like  a 
god  among  other  things,  like  a  heaven  or  a  hell  in  its  radiations, 
like  all  history  in  its  scope,  like  all  science  in  its  laws,  unlikest  of 
all  things  to  death,  most  inscient  of  impossibilities,  most  untrue  to 
itself  in  meanness,  and  most  immeasurable  by  lies  and  materialisms. 

We  will  conclude  this  argument  with  two  glorious  scientific  songs, 
which  say  as  we  cannot  hope  to  do,  the  mere  truth  on  this  matter. 
George  Herbert  On  Man  remarks: — 

"  Man  is  all  symmetry  ; 
Full  of  proportions,  one  limb  to  another, 
And  to  all  the  world  besides. 


320  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

Each  part  ma}'  call  Ihe  farthest  brother, 
For  head  with  foot  hath  private  amity, 
And  both  with  moons  and  tides. 

"  Nothing  hath  got  so  far 
But  man  hath  caught  and  kept  it  as  his  prey ; , 

His  eyes  dismount  the  highest  star, 

He  is,  in  little,  all  the  sphere. 
Herbs  gladly  cure  our  flesh,  because  that  they 

Find  their  acquaintance  there. 

"  For  us  the  winds  do  blow, 

The  earth  doth  rest,  heaven  move,  and  fountains  flow. 
Nothing  we  see  but  means  our  good, 
As  our  delight,  or  as  our  treasure  ; 

The  whole  is  either  our  cupboard  of  food, 
Or  cabinet  of  pleasure. 

"  The  stars  have  us  to  bed; 
Night  draws  the  curtain,  which  the  sun  withdraws, 

Music  and  light  attend  our  head. 

All  things  unto  our  flesh  are  kind 
In  their  descent  and  being  ;  to  our  mind 

In  their  ascent  and  cause. 

"  More  servants  wait  on  man 
Than  he'll  take  notice  of.     In  every  path 

He  treads  down  that  which  doth  befriend  him 
When  sickness  makes  him  pale  and  wan. 
O  !  mighty  love  !     Man  is  one  world,  and  hath 
Another  to  attend  him." 

William  Blake  on  the  Human  Form  also  observes: — 

"  To  mercy,  pity,  peace,  and  love, 

All  pray  in  their  distress; 

And  to  these  virtues  of  delight, 

Return  their  thankfulness. 

"For  mercy,  pity,  peace  and  love, 
Is  God,  our  Father  dear  ; 
And  mercy,  pity,  peace,  and  love, 
Is  man,  his  child  and  care. 

"For  mercy  has  a  human  heart, 
Pity,  a  human  face, 
And  love,  the  human  form  divine, 
And  peace,  the  human  dress. 

"  Then  every  man,  of  every  clime, 
That  prays  in  his  distress, 
Prays  to  the  Human  Form  Divine, 
Love,  Mercy,  Pity,  Peace. 


FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  HUMAN  FORM.  321 

"And  all  must  love  the  Human  Form, 
In  heathen,  Turk,  or  Jew  : 
Where  Mercy,  Love,  and  Pity  dwell, 
There  God  is  dwelling  too." 

But  if  the  parts  of  the  human  form  have  functions,  the  whole  has 
functions  too.  A  new  problem  therefore  occurs,  and  we  now  ask 
what  is  the  physiology,  not  of  brain,  heart,  or  skin,  but  of  the  human 
form  as  an  organ? 

In  order  to  answer  this  question,  we  must  know  what  the  human 
form  is;  for  its  functions  cannot  be  told  until  we  have  it  before  us. 
In  the  lowest  consideration  then  it  is  life,  Icing  or  substance.  For 
in  fact  it  is  the  end  of  creation,  and  the  end  is  also  the  beginning, 
and  supports  the  means,  or  lifts  them  into  standing.  The  end  also 
justifies  the  means,  or  gives  them  solidity.  The  human  form*  is 
therefore  the  living  Caryatides  of  the  world;  or  more  properly,  in 
revelation  it  is  the  I  am,  Who  not  was  but  is  in  all  time  and  nature. 
Its  function  accordingly  is  the  gift  of  substantial  life  to  those  whom 
it  includes;  ay!  and  of  comparative  life  and  substance  to  all  its 
images  and  types.  In  the  lap  of  this  sustaining  form,  we  receive 
the  seals  of  fact,  and  are  bound  to  be  real :  we  have  no  escape  into 
nothingness  any  more,  but  existence  is  our  fate.  Herein  then  we 
are  in  the  essential  organ  of  life;  and  as  the  body  in  the  form  re- 
ceives life,  so  its  function  or  necessity  is,  to  make  life. 

In  the  second  place  the  human  form  is  use.  For  man  in  fact  is 
the  creature  who  can  surmount  himself,  and  elect  the  universal  use. 
He  has  a  spirit  above  his  nature,  or  can  breathe  for  the  common- 
wealth of  heaven.  Born  into  this  human  form,  it  presses  its  indus- 
tries upon  him,  and  commands  him  to  good  works.  Its  signal  before 
all  his  battles  is,  "The  Lord  of  the  universe  expects  every  man  to 
do  his  duty."     "Thou  shalt  eat  bread  in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow  all 

*  That  Indian  myth,  that  the  world  rests  upon  a  tortoise,  and  the  tortoise 
upon  an  elephant,  though  deficient  in  ground  for  the  elephant,  involves  a  deeper 
thought  than  the  metaphysical  conception  of  substance,  and  stands  many  degrees 
nearer  to  a  true  answer  than  the  barren  pantheism  of  Spinosa.  For  elephant  and 
tortoise  have  good  broad  backs  of  their  own,  unlike  metaphysical  abstractions  ; 
and  moreover  they  are  analogues  in  the  series  of  humanity,  and  in  this  degree 
approach  the  true  answer.  The  conception  of  substance  belongs  to  the  skin, 
principles  of  thought  (p.  287),  and  is  the  epidermis  of  the  conception  of  support 
whose  inner  parts,  as  we  have  given  them  above,  are,  1.  Being;  and  2.  Life. 


322  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

the  days  of  thy  life."  Man's  work  is  universal;  in  laying  bricks 
to  the  hovels  of  his  plans,  he  is  working  at  other  plans  veiled;  rear- 
ing far  and  future  states;  the  basements  of  ages  to  come;  the  limbs 
and  wills  of  his  posterities;  the  strength,  or  weakness,  of  his  own 
soul,  and  by  reversion,  of  his  societies:  buildings,  good  and  bad, 
high,  and  low,  and  broad.  This  is  according  to  his  incessant  form, 
which  is  the  essential  organ  of  activity.  And  if  he  will  not  work 
but  drone,  his  waste  is  universal.  The  ground  supports  him  in 
vain,  and  his  feet  kill  its  purpose ;  herbs  feed  and  beasts  clothe  him 
for  disgrace;  his  frame  puts  costliest  energy  in  play,  to  be  manu- 
factured into  sloth;  and  his  soul  hovers  uninhabiting  over  his  slime. 
This  is  the  final  shape  of  unhappiness,  the  lot  of  apoplexed  men  and 
societies,  whose  curse  it  becomes  that  they  are  lashed  to  the  halberds 
of  use  upside  down,  which  cleaves  with  poison  to  their  human  forms. 
For  the  human  form  is  the  divinity  either  of  Nemesis,  or  of  God. 

The  third  human  form  surrounding  and  entering  into  the  former 
two,  is  wisdom  or  divine  light,  whose  care  it  is  to  make  us  wise. 
And  because  we  are  shapes  in  which  wisdom  may  dwell,  it  presses 
us  with  ought  and  must,  and  throngs  us  with  duties  through  our 
eyes;  for  by  the  magnetism  of  our  likeness  it  is  at  our  side,  to  show 
us  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life.  We  can  therefore  no  more 
escape  existence  than  elude  the  necessity  to  be  wise,  or  foolish.  In 
the  latter  case  we  founder  upon  the  human  form,  or  stumble  blind- 
fold through  a  world  of  posts  and  pitfalls :  for  our  world  is  even  as 
ourselves,  and  if  we  are  wounded  within,  all  things  chase  and  gore 
us,  as  the  herd,  a  bleeding  deer.  But  the  form  of  wisdom  is,  first, 
the  understanding  mind;  hence  its  earliest  pressure  incites  us  to 
know;  and  heaven  known,  man  known,  God  known,  the  world 
known,  is  its  mission :  the  second  form  is  the  spiritual  mind,  which 
elects  the  noblest  causes  from  the  rest,  and  has  ears  from  that  scrip- 
ture:  "If  ye  will  do  the  works,  ye  shall  know  of  the  doctrine. " 
Thus  as  our  bodies  of  sense  oblige  us  to  see,  work  and  exist,  to  eat, 
drink  and  generate,  or  to  pay  the  penalties  of  refusal,  so  our  bodies 
of  understanding  and  wisdom  bind  us  to  answerable  courses,  or  mulct 
us  in  equal  retributions.  In  this  light  we  are  organs  of  new  pro- 
ducts again,  and  necessity  forces  us  to  increase  the  wisdom,  or  the 
folly,  of  the  world. 


FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  HUMAN  FORM.  823 

The  fourth  human  form  is  love,  the  substance  of  substance,  the 
use  of  use,  and  the  wisdom  of  wisdom,  which  takes  the  names  of 
the  rest,  and  completes  the  circle  of  all  in  all.  There  is  no  such 
incumbence  as  this,  of  loving,  for  love  is  not  only  God's  image  but 
his  likeness,  and  comes  from  the  highest  of  the  Highest.  Its  organ 
is  the  will,  which  is  motive  in  all  acts  and  apathies — a  man  who 
neither  slumbers  nor  sleeps.  This  is  he  that  ceaseless  love  solicits; 
and  it  stands  around  him  in  all  the  shapes  that  touch  him,  as  child 
and  parent,  spouse  and  country;  and  by  irresistible  drawing,  it  welds 
him  to  his  objects,  and  assembles  each  world  under  its  banners. 
But  union  begets  being,  or  love  is  the  parent  of  substance.  Hence 
love  is  increased  by  existence,  as  flame  by  fuel.  And  being  born 
into  the  form  of  love,  which  is  the  human,  we  are  bound  not  only 
to  our  adopted  will,  but  to  its  increases.  In  this  form  then  we  stand 
under  an  almighty  pressure  towards  union  and  generation ;  and  are 
compelled  to  be  at  one  with  our  companions;  and  by  ever  similar 
progeny  from  the  loins  of  our  love  to  augment  the  society  we  have 
chosen. 

This  organic  consideration  presents  old  facts  in  a  new  discourse, 
and  we  come  to  a  functional  root  of  the  happiness  and  unhappiness 
of  man,  and  of  his  manifold  healths  and  diseases.  For  life  and 
wisdom,  love  and  action,  are  in  his  blood  and  spirit,  and  he  must 
either  produce  and  secrete  them  aright,  or  fall  into  maladies  innu- 
merable. The  form  which  he  bears,  being  the  essential  organ  of 
happiness,  wails  over  its  own  loss  in  tones  which  are  essential  pain ; 
for  joy  and  sorrow,  strange  in  the  world,  are  native  here,  and  Omni- 
potence itself  seconds  every  monition  and  delight  of  the  human  form. 
For  the  rest  we  have  to  observe,  that  to  this  physiological  shape  all 
science,  art,  morals  and  spirituals  revert;  for  substance  is  the  quest 
of  science;  use,  including  beauty,  is  the  compass  of  art;  wisdom  is 
for  moral  philosophy;  and  love  and  its  universe  for  the  spiritual  man : 
whence  the  human  form  is  the  future  grammar  of  every  school  which 
gives  real  instructions  to  mankind. 

Here  too  the  problem  of  life  receives  its  present  last  illustrations. 
For  though  already  we  have  shown  that  the  inner  man  is  "  the  vital 
principle"  of  the  outer,  yet  a  new  vitality  is  demanded  for  him 
again;  tortoise  and  elephant  (p.  321),  by  themselves,  though  they 


324  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

seem  to  support,  only  increase  the  weight  to  be  supported;  in  short, 
the  inner  man  drops  into  metaphysical  dust  as  the  outer  man  into 
physical,  unless  his  parts  are  coherent  through  some  self-sustaining 
life.  That  latter  is  evidently  the  living  God,  the  end  of  problems 
and  the  font  of  certainties,  who  makes  us  not  of  cells  and  molecules, 
but  of  humanities  because  He  is  human.  Therefore  the  last  office 
of  science  is,  to  cease  to  make,  and  to  accept  a  Maker. 

We  have  frequently  adverted  before  to  the  principle  of  Corre- 
spondence (pp.  225,  226,  242-244,  &c),  and  we  again  remark,  that 
the  above  functions  take  place  by  its  necessity.  As  spirit  and  soul 
are  present  with  body  because  creation  is  a  band  of  like  superiors 
with  like  inferiors,  so  God  is  present  to  man  when  the  same  reason 
holds.  The  spiritual  world  also  plays  upon  us  by  this  law  of  like- 
ness, sameness  or  assembling :  all  the  angels  rest  on  our  good  parts 
and  deeds,  and  all  the  devils  urge  down  into  our  mischievous  fibres; 
so  that  correspondence  is  the  union  of  things,  and  harmony  has  ex- 
istence in  its  arms.  Think  then  of  what  jets  the  passions  and  vir- 
tues are  the  springs;  and  what  it  is  to  be  born  into  the  human 
shape,  with  its  celestial  and  infernal  hydraulics !  But  this  too  is 
under  direction;  for  unstop  our  souls  as  we  may,  their  wells  are 
supervised;  for  there  is  one  "openeth  and  no  man  shutteth,  and 
shutteth  and  no  man  openeth." 

These  also  are  things  of  which  we  spoke  under  other  names 
when  treating  of  the  anatomical  organs.  And  we  find  by  the 
spiritual  telescope,  that  the  same  fallacy  has  clouded  our  eyes 
here  as  that  which  resolved  the  stars  of  heaven  into  a  doctrine  of 
glittering  dust  (p.  290).  For  as  those  molecules  of  the  universe 
are  universes,  so  the  molecules  of  man  are  men.  That  which 
seems  little  by  distance  is  not  little,  but  mighty ;  and  that  which 
seems  little  by  nearness  is,  perchance,  greater  still.  If  the  king- 
dom of  God  is  within  us,  then  have  we  roominess  indeed.  The 
little  chariots  of  blood,  seed  and  spirit  are  magnified  into  eternal 
processions;  and  judgments,  thrones  and  principalities,  horses, 
white  and  pale  and  red,  move  in  awful  cycles  through  our  human 
forms.  If  we  are  of  the  dust,  well  !  There  is  an  end  of  us. 
But  if  we  are  images  of  the  Most  High,  there  is  no  end  of  us : 
but  our  breeding,  educating,  and  healing  are  according  to  this  pat- 
tern and  rule — no  less,  and  no  other. 


FUNCTIONS  OF  THE  HUMAN  FORM.  325 

But  lastly,  to  shut  out  unreality,  and  bolt  its  door,  if  we  are  in 
the  image  of  God,  Who — not  what — is  that  God  whose  image  we 
are  to  wear  ?  The  answer  in  fact  is  Christ.  Of  other  gods  we 
speculate,  but  none  other  do  we  know.  It  is  his  love,  wisdom, 
works  and  body  that  clothe  us  with  our  second  forms,  and  enable 
us  to  fulfil  the  end  of  our  being  in  making  our  lives  and  acts  co- 
human  with  our  shapes.  Christianity,  it  is  obvious,  is  the  only 
human  religion  :  other  religions  are  mineral,  vegetable,  animal,  or 
anthropomorphic  ;  but  this  is  theomorphic ;  the  revelation  of  no 
Man- God,  but  of  the  God-Man.  Henceforth,  therefore,  there  are 
no  problems  of  God,  but  a  history  of  Christ.  Christianity  ac- 
cordingly works  to  the  redemption  of  the  physical  man  and  hum  in 
body,  that  it  may  be  like  to  his  glorious  body.  And  among  its 
other  miracles  is  the  connection  of  grace  with  nature,  or  of  divinity 
with  physiology }  so  that  by  the  harmonies  of  this  connection, 
Christ  is  to  be  Lord  of  the  sciences,  as  well  as  High  Priest  of  the 
churches.  For  it  is  very  obvious  that  the  laws  of  love,  wisdom, 
and  use,  which  are  the  health  or  functions  of  the  body,  are  the 
obedience  of  its  atoms  to  His  new  commandment,  and  that  in  this 
way  the  formulas  of  Christianity  are  all  prevalent  in  physics.  From 
the  moment  that  this  is  seen,  the  modern  polytheism  is  ended,  for 
the  Creator  and  Redeemer  are  the  same,  and  the  God  of  nature  is 
also  the  God  of  revelation.*  For  be  it  remembered  that  the  divine 
empire  and  pressure  of  Christ  upon  his  subjects  takes  place  by 
revelation  :  it  is  not  left  to  straggle  down  through  history,  through 
journalists  and  scribes,  but  the  book  which  is  God's  with  us,  is  the 
continuation  of  the  Man  who  is  God  with  us.  Whence -again  our 
human  form  is  according  to  our  correspondence  with  the  Word  of 
God. 

All  this  belongs  strictly  to  the  sciences,  and  especially  to  those 
that  relate  to  the  body  as  the  casket  of  the  life  of  man.  For  the 
great  Incarnation  is  the  model  of  the  rest.  And  moreover  it  is  not 
this  or  that  man  that  concerns  physiology,  but  the  problems  of  cor- 
poreal humanity  in  its  scope.  But  this  matter  of  religion,  in  which 
Christ's  incarnation  is  part  of  experience,  necessarily  takes  rank  in 

*  See  these  points  considered  in  my  "  Address  on  a  late  work  on  the  Philoso- 
phy of  Religion."     1849. 

28 


326  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

its  way  as  the  leading  instance  of  all,  and  can  never  be  banished 
from  the  cases  upon  which  fair  induction  works.  It  is  not  the 
average  man,  but  the  archetypal  and  typical  man,  who  is  the  sub- 
ject of  anthropological  science,  according  to  that  plain  rule,  that 
cardinal  and  representative  instances,  and  not  extrinsic  and  adven- 
titious ones,  are  those  in  which  knowledge  seeks  for  principles. 
Indeed  there  is  no  doctrine  of  man,  who  is  a  variable  and  fluid 
term,  unless  it  be  in  the  doctrine  of  Christ.  The  average  man  is 
unattainable;  every  fresh  birth  alters  his  number  and  figure  :  it  is 
only  the  God-Man  who  can  be  known  (p.  241).  Hence  the  neces- 
sity of  turning  the  telescopes  of  physiology  and  anthropology  in 
this  direction,  that  around  the  variable  we  may  see  the  constant,  or 
that  science  may  become  divine  by  admitting  him  who  is  the  light 
of  the  world.  This  will  give  both  dignity  and  facility  to  our  stu- 
dies ;  for  the  revealed  divine  perfections  are  the  tacit  axioms  of  all 
truth  ;  and  consequently  in  the  working  of  these  remote  problems 
of  physiology,  we  find  here  the  principles  that  lead  us  on  by  imper- 
ceptible stages,  each  easy  as  the  first,  to  ends  where  the  first  in  all 
its  brightness  reappears.  In  nature's  dark  mines,  this  is  a  circle 
from  light  to  light,  in  which  light  is  the  way. 

We  may  here  obviate  an  objection  to  these  general  views ;  for  it 
may  be  urged  that  we  have  forgotten  throughout  that  the  original 
human  form  is  defaced,  and  cannot  now  be  called  the  image  of  God. 
To  this  we  reply  that  we  so  designate  it,  in  reference  to  what  it 
may  be,  not  to  what  it  is ;  and  claim  that  thought  shall  live  upon 
our  future  health,  and  not  upon  our  present  diseases.  For  man 
still  retains  his  prerogative  so  far,  that  he  is  capable  of  reconversion 
into  the  primeval  image,  as  all  religion  knows.  The  human  form 
has  never  been  abolished  :  it  has  a  divine  strength  of  conservation 
(p.  288);  so  that  even  the  poor  Bushmen  and  Australians,  nay,  all 
criminals,  are  still  men,  and  we  dare  not  cease  to  say  that  they  are 
in  the  image  of  God ;  for  that  same  emancipative  form  which  is 
the  immensity  of  righteousness,  is  also  the  dungeon  of  sin.  By 
this  conservation  it  is  that  the  children  of  those  who  are  bending  to 
death  under  all  guilts  and  plagues,  are  born  infants  as  the  rest ; 
they  too  begin  from  heaven,  by  whose  elasticity  the  liberated  seed 
recovers   itself  with   a  spring   from    the   pressure   and   abuse   of 


CAUSE  OF  DEATH.  327 

generations.  An  earnest  that  evil  cannot  triumph,  or  build  through 
the  world,  because  there  is  this  almighty  arm  nursing  babes  in  the 
wrestle.  For  the  like  cause  every  day  is  born  afresh,  and  the  load 
of  life  is  lightened  in  sleep,  which  lets  out  an  ever  new  man  through 
the  merciful  gates  of  the  morning.  Thus  though  the  divine  image 
be  defaced,  yet  as  its  features  may  be  won  again,  we  still  recognize 
in  man  the  remoteness  of  his  archetype;  just  as  we  call  reason, 
reason,  despite  of  unreason  ;  and  leave  to  love  its  ideal  meaning, 
though  that  substance,  as  such,  is  seldom  patent  upon  earth. 

We  conclude  here  by  reverting  one  stage  back,  to  speak  of  the 
meaning  and  cause  of  death  ;  because  this  background  will  perchance 
throw  forth  into  relief  the  image  and  emblems  of  life.  For  as  life 
comes  by  correspondence,  so  death  comes  by  non-correspondence 
between  the  soul  and  the  body;  just  as  deadness  in  these  sciences 
comes  from  non-perception  of  correspondence.  Thus  when  the 
heart  has  no  longer  any  heartiness  towards  the  man,  and  no  more 
likeness  to  the  soul's  heart,  which  is  love  (pp.  194 — 213,  247 — 
251),  when  the  blood  grows  callous  to  the  formation  of  relations, 
and  feels  no  warmth  and  joy  in  begetting,  educating,  marrying  or 
advancing  the  children  of  the  body,  then  the  soul  ceases  to  care  for 
it,  and  begins  by  slow  degrees  to  leave  it;  in  other  words,  disease 
and  disability  prey  upon  it;  organic  vice  besets  it;  and  the  inner 
man  ceases  to  keep  company  with  it;  for  it  is  a  hard  heart,  already 
dead  to  suggestion  and  obedience.  So  when  the  lungs  begin  no 
more  to  play  for  thought,  or  to  draw  animation  and  faculty  forth, 
the  soul  and  they  have  to  separate,  as  persons  estranged  from  each 
other ;  for  breath  exists  that  soul  may  breathe,  and  when  this  is  no 
longer  possible,  mortal  breath  stops.  And  when  the  brain  no 
longer  elects  light  and  virtue  from  matter,  and  communes  no  more 
by  vibratory  states  with  the  genii  of  the  cosmos,  then  the  soul  quits 
this  effete  spiritualist,  now  a  materialist ;  and  the  brain  dies  from 
the  separation,  just  as  it  dies  spiritually  from  the  denial  of  the  soul. 
So  also,  when  the  muscles  have  lost  their  imaginations  of  power,  the 
will  of  the  soul  quits  them  as  broken  tools.  Then  the  body  falls  to 
pieces  by  its  own  degrees  of  decay.  After  this  it  belongs  to  no 
soul,  but  to  the  world,  whose  first  artisans  with  it  are  the  chemistries 
of  nature,  and  the  anatomical  worms. 


328  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

But  the  natural  decay  and  death  of  the  body  image  those  of  the 
mind  ;  for  this  it  is  that,  after  its  culmination,  is  dying  by  degrees. 
The  loves  which  come  by  nature  are  gradually  extinct  as  age  pro- 
ceeds: the  intelligence  also  ceases,  and  the  sense.  Thus  we  care 
much  for  objects  at  first,  but  gradually  less,  and  nothing  at  last : 
that  care  or  love  is  then  dead.  The  child's  dolls,  and  the  man's, 
follow  this  curricle.  So  with  intelligence:  its  objects  are  brightest 
at  first  perceiving;  in  their  adult  state  they  are  active  ideas;  after 
this  they  become  repetitions,  and  sit  in  easy  chairs  of  twaddle ;  and 
in  the  end  the  mind  dies  to  them,  and  they  to  it.  And  so  with  the 
senses  also ;  the  eye  has  at  first  much  pleasure  in  seeing,  and  at  last 
none  :  the  whole  of  the  five  are  ultimately  tired  to  death.  This  is 
the  course  of  nature  in  the  natural  or  perishable  mind  for  the  ob- 
jects of  nature;  and  the  body  follows  it  paribus  passibus.  For  the 
natural  is  a  feeder  to  the  spiritual  mind — the  stomach  which  the 
soul  has  for  nature;  and  after  a  sufficiency  of  her  ways  and  informa- 
tions has  been  assimilated,  and  the  spirit  is  of  age,  its  old  guardian 
mind  and  memory  are  deciduous,  and  the  body  drops  off  with  them. 
The  motives  of  separation  between  the  soul  and  spiritual  mind,  and 
the  body  and  natural  mind,  are  therefore  motives  of  common  sense : 
and  are  parallel  with  those  for  which  we  cement,  or  dissever,  our 
connections  with  our  fellow  men.  For  we  cannot  too  often  repeat, 
that  the  soul  is  a  vast  society,  and  the  body  a  society,  and  that  all 
our  relations  and  utilities  are  in  their  focal  union  there. 

The  materialists  are  therefore  right,  when  they  speak  of  the  death 
of  the  mind ;  for  die  it  must,  or  entrance  to  spiritual  life  would  be 
impossible.  The  case  is  like  that  of  the  proper  foetal  organs,  the  ductus 
arteriosus,  ductus  venosus,*  and  the  like,  which  unless  they  died  to 

*  With  regard  to  apparitions,  or  physiological  re-appearances  of  the  soul  in 
nature  (which  by  a  law  easily  expounded  are  numerous  in  proportion  as  the  state 
of  man  is  low,  and  exercise  a  compensatory  function  for  the  defect  of  angelic 
communion,  and  faith  in  revelation),  they  are  according  to  the  analogies  of  the 
change  from  foetal  to  personal  life.  For  as  birth  may  be  incomplete  so  far  as 
that  the  bodily  changes  which  it  implies  have  not  properly  occurred,  so  death 
may  be  imperfect,  and  the  proper  spiritual  changes  may  not  have  ensued;  and 
as  "  the  blue  disease"  is  the  oscillation  after  birth  between  embryonic  and  infant 
life,  so  haunting  is  the  oscillation  between  the  mundane  and  supermundane  states. 


THE  MATERIALISTS  AT  WORK.  829 

their  embryonic  functions,  the  life  after  birth  could  not  proceed. 
And  so,  unless  our  old  fixed  ways  of  wanting-,  deeming  and  cogitat- 
ing, the  channels  of  nature's  thoughts  and  loves,  were  dried  up,  and 
rendered  inert,  the  life  after  death  would  be  impossible :  and  in  that 
case,  having  given  up  one  life  by  inevitable  stages,  and  yet  not  at- 
tained to  the  next,  we  should  stick  in  death,  and  be  lost  to  progress; 
which  last,  however,  is  provided  by  the  successive  dying  of  our  aged 
minds.  We  therefore  claim  materialism  as  not  only  the  cause  of 
death,  but  by  poetical  justice,  as  the  undertaker  and  burier  of  the 
dead  ;  and  we  leave  it  with  sadness  to  its  "  black  work/'  of  caring 
for  that  for  which  no  soul  can  care.  And  as  we  leave  it  shoveling 
away — ashes  to  ashes  and  dust  to  dust — we  meet  our  brother,  the 
Man,  again,  with  all  his  virilities  and  appointments  intact;  an  eye 
which  is  mind,  and  a  mind  which  is  spirit,  the  risen  person  and  new 
born  infant  of  the  second  life. 

Having  now  dwelt  upon  the  functions  of  the  human  form,  and 
seen  that  they  repose  upon  the  functions  of  the  body,  and  that  the 
one  is  never  without  the  other,  we  conclude  the  present  Chapter 
with  a  few  words  on  some  of  the  functions  of  the  doctrine  of  the  hu- 
man form,  which  doctrine  is  to  knowledge  what  the  human  form  is 
to  existence. 

With  regard  to  the  sciences  of  the  body,  we  have  found  that  this 
doctrine  opens  up  the  sluices  of  all  life,  and  determines  its  tide  into 
physiology.     We  can  no  longer  think  of  our  vitals,  or  molecules,* 

There  is  the  same  God  on  both  sides  of  the  grave,  yet  the  state  is  according  to 
the  materials. 

*  In  stating  this,  we  know  that  we  disagree  with  the  prevailing  views,  which 
powder  the  human  body  into  cells,  and  regard  them  as  the  elements  of  mankind. 
But,  as  we  before  stated  (pp.  174 — 177),  only  that  is  essential  to  any  subject, 
■which  is  peculiar  to  it,  and  contradistinguishes  it  from  others,  whereas  nucleated 
cells  and  cell-germs  are  common  to  all  organization  as  the  chaos  out  of  which 
it  arises.  To  think  of  them  in  connection  with  anything  human,  is  to  think  of 
man  in  and  from  chaos.  But  it  has  required  a  divine  hand  fo  win  the  human  form 
out  of  matter,  and  science  has  no  prospect  of  gaining  it,  unless  by  accepting  it  as 
il  i^.  without  attempting  to  construct  it  out  of  cells.  For  our  own  part  we  are 
conscious  that  we  can  make  nothing  of  cells,  and  we  bless  God  every  day  that 
his  works  come  to  us  ready  made,  and  can  neither  be  taken  to  pieces,  nor  put 
together — save  by  his  own  hand.     Our  ceils  are  not  the  pieces,  but  the  fragments 

28* 


330  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

as  objects  which  have  ever  been  seen  by  microscope  or  anatomy ; 
for  the  more  we  attribute  to  their  life  and  integrity,  the  less  are 
their  dead  bodies  themselves.  The  effect  of  this  upon  the  eyes  with 
which  the  body  and  its  prospects  are  seen,  is  hope  and  expansion. 
Blood,  nerve  and  bone  are  the  walls  of  the  present  sciences,  and 

and  ruins  of  his  works.  The  pieces  of  humanity  are  men,  women,  and  children, 
and  by  the  deepest  analysis  there  are  no  lesser  pieces  than  these.  It  is  the  syn- 
thesis of  these,  and  not  of  cells,  that  constitutes  fresh  men  and  women.  Every 
particle  of  the  body  involves  the  whole,  or  it  is  dead,  and  not  within  our  subject : 
thus  as  a  living  thing  it  is  the  entire  human  form. 

While  upon  this  subject,  we  will  say  a  few  words  on  the  vexata  qucestio  of 
cell-germs,  the  first  of  which  is  supposed  to  contain  the  whole  forces  of  the  or- 
ganism in  potency.  For  the  primordial  cell  appears  as  the  beginning  of  the  body. 
But  it  is  thought  absurd  that  within  this  delicate  vesicle  forces  should  reside 
that  build  the  frame,  and  continue  it  while  life  endures.  In  order  to  see  how 
the  case  is,  let  us  apply  the  human  lens  to  it,  and  look  at  it  from  man,  who  is  the 
atom  or  cell  of  the  fabric  of  Society.  Under  this  glass  we  see  that  the  cell  is  a 
man  big  with  a  new  idea.  Let  us  call  that  primal  cell  by  the  name  of  Mahomet. 
This  man  is  the  cell-germ  of  a  new  religion  and  polity  in  the  world.  What  is 
the  case  with  him  ?  He  receives  his  mission  complete  as  a  germ  in  his  own 
person ;  whatever  Mahometanism  in  its  purity  will  be,  is  involved  in  the  idea 
of  that  molecular-  person — Mahomet.  He  does  not  know  it,  for  who  knows 
the  contents  and  consequences  of  himself?  But  there  it  is — a  logic  of  great 
events  folded  into  that  deceptively  minute  form.  By  degrees  he  infects  new 
matter,  that  is  to  say,  disciples,  with  his  idea,  whose  life  they  receive,  and  to 
which  they  add  their  own  life ;  expanding  the  original  idea,  as  it  was  capable  of 
being  expanded  from  the  beginning.  And  one  such  idea  might  range  upon  it 
the  populations  of  all  continents,  and  be  less  exhausted  than  when  its  assimila- 
tions began ;  for  in  conquering  ideas,  it  is  not  extension,  but  want  and  failure  of 
extension,  that  is  exhaustive.  It  is  therefore  clear,  that  as  a  spiritual  architec- 
tonic thing,  all  Mahometanism  lay  in  the  cell-germ — Mahomet ;  but  as  a  phy- 
sical force  each  new  molecule  or  disciple  contributed  to  it  his  body  and  powers. 
And  had  he  not,  from  the  beginning,  been  such  a  cell  as  Mahomet,  only  wanting 
conception  or  the  active  idea,  no  force  could  have  made  him  an  efficient  part  in 
the  body  of  Mahometanism. 

Just  so,  there  is  a  spiritual  architectonic  force  lying  in  the  cell-germs  of  or- 
ganization, and  a  material,  obeisant,  correspondential,  bricklaying  force  in  the 
materials  which  lie  ready  to  be  infected  by  the  cell-germs. 

A  word  also  with  regard  to  the  doctrine  of  controvertibility  of  forces,  now 
popular  among  the  learned,  and  according  to  which  heat  has  only  to  pass 
through  a  cell-germ  to  be  converted  into  vitality.  This  doctrine  ends  in  fire- 
worshiping,  for  it  makes  the  light  and  heat  of  the  material  sun  to  be  the  fountains 
of  the  force  of  organization  :  and  deems  that  these  pass  through  vegetables,  and 
become  vegetable  life;  through  animals,  and  become  animal  life  ;  through  brains, 
and  become  mind,  and  so  forth.  Therefore  a  fine  day,  poured  into  its  vessel,  man, 


CELL-GERMS.  331 

their  poor  languid  life  is  the  rescource  of  the  corresponding  arts ; 
but  Man,  the  hierarchy,  is  the  presence  before  whom  these  limits 
disappear,  and  the  reservoir  out  of  which  wholeness  and  vitality  well 
from  perennial  springs.  For  as  the  parts  rise  to  the  stature  of  the 
whole,  our  knowledge  of  them  is  the  physiological  double  of  our 
knowledge  of  man;  and  the  arts  of  their  cure  and  conservation,  are 
the  religions  and  virtues  of  the  human  race,  represented  under  their 
healing  forms. 

All  this  means,  that  under  the  pressure  of  these  views,  the  body 
begins  to  have  a  spirit.  But  also  by  the  same  doctrine,  the  spirit 
begins  to  have  a  body.  For  as  the  present  world,  like  a  battle  field 
in  which  the  armies  both  of  truth  and  error  have  been  slain,  is  strewed 
with  the  dead  corses  of  the  sciences,  so  there  is  a  melancholy  array 
of  spectres  called  philosophies,  fighting  over  again  in  the  air  the 
same  old  cause  which  was  hopeless  on  the  earth.     But  the  sciences 

becomes  transmogrified  into  virtues;  dark  nights  are  converted  into  felonies; 
dull  November  days  into  suicides;  and  Lot  suns  into  love.  This  is  materialism 
with  spiritualism  in  its  pocket.  The  creed  is  an  old  one,  and  not  untrue  of  ani- 
mality;  for  the  beasts  love  in  summer  because  the  sun  bids  them,  and  their 
hearts  are  cold  in  winter  because  winter  is  cold.  But  it  is  false  of  man,  and 
false  of  his  very  atoms,  excepting  in  so  far  as  he  degrades  himself  into  an  animal. 
As  it  has  been  said  of  the  true  man, 

"  The  sun  to  others  writeth  laws,  and  is  their  virtue  ; 
Virtue  is  his  sun." 

For  though  he  requires  heat  to  love,  yet  he  requires  to  love  at  all  times,  and  that 
is  the  root  of  the  art  by  which  he  procures  a  constant  temperature  that  makes  his 
body  capable.  The  prior  fact  is  his  human  determination  to  beat  winter  and 
summer;  and  though  he  must  have  climates,  to  pick  and  choose  them  at  his 
will. 

There  is  no  convertibility  of  forces  between  life  and  nature  ;  there  are  no  cells 
by  which  heat  can  be  filtered  into  vitality.  The  doctrine  of  Correspondence 
must  be  substituted  for  that  of  convertibility.  It  is  because  love  and  life  them- 
selves are  live  fire  (p.  89),  that  they  come  forth  by  the  law  of  invitation,  when 
the  organism  which  they  affect  by  the  same  principle  of  correspondence  (pp.  225, 
226,  242 — 244)  is  immersed  in  the  dead  heat  of  the  sun.  All  circumstance  is  ne- 
cessarily haunted,  because  there  are  spirits  akin  to  the  circumstance,  which  co- 
habit with  it,  as  the  soul  cohabits  with  the  body.  But  the  soul  is  not  porous  to 
the  body,  though  the  body  is  porous  to  the  soul  ;  and  by  no  art  can  camels  pass 
through  needles'  eyes  ;  death  get  into  life  ;  gross  heat  penetrate  living  heat ;  or 
dead  doctrines  of  convertibility  procure  admission  to  the  distinct  and  fastidious 
truths  which  conserve  the  empire  of  the  world. 


332  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

once  upon  their  legs  again,  the  philosophies  get  into  them  as  their 
proper  souls.  The  first  corse  to  be  re-animated  is  physiology;  psy- 
chology is  the  first  of  the  ghosts  which  will  be  incarnate  in  a  human 
habitation.  The  doctrine  of  the  structural  human  soul  is  the  basis 
of  philosophy,  as  that  of  the  organic  body  is  the  foundation  of  phy- 
siology. And  this  doctrine  of  the  psychical  man  is  threefold ;  first, 
what  he  does  :  second,  what  he  is:  and  third,  where  he  comes  from. 
"With  regard  to  the  first  point,  every  house  and  every  history  is  its 
answer:  practical  psychology  is  therefore  the  knowledge  of  the  entire 
works  of  the  soul.  With  regard  to  the  second,  it  involves  the  human 
form  in  its  brightest  robes  of  consciousness,  with  all  its  actions  poured 
back  into  it  as  powers,  and  seen  not  in  effects,  but  in  causes.  And 
for  the  third  point,  as  touching  the  origin  of  the  soul,  it  is  as  the 
origin  of  the  impression  from  the  seal,  or  of  the  child  from  the 
parent;  for  the  archetype  by  its  terms  is  the  account  of  the  type. 
Psychology  is  therefore  the  science  of  assumptions  with  regard  to 
the  real  soul ;  for  it  is  bound  to  make  nothing,  but  to  assume  or  take 
up  what  is  given  in  experience ;  and  fact  shows  what  our  souls  are 
by  what  they  do  and  feel,  and  completes  the  substance  of  the  know- 
ledge by  embracing  the  facts  of  revelation.  In  short  psychology 
accepts  the  inner  man,  with  all  the  motives,  senses,  and  form  of  the 
outer;  and  its  problems  refer  either  to  his  associates,  or  if  they  are 
deeper  than  that  world,  to  inner  men  again  in  a  new  manly  orbit; 
and  so  on  through  benches  and  choirs  of  manliness  until  the  answer 
comes  from  the  human  mouth  somewhere.  The  knowledge  of  the 
world  is  therefore  the  analogue,  as  it  is  the  beginning,  of  all  the 
knowledge  of  the  soul.  And  men,  women  and  children  are  our  only 
faculties,  the  actors  in  all,  and  the  accountants  of  all,  up  to  the  very 
throne  of  God.  Psychology  is  thus  not  abstract,  but  dramatic  and 
allegorical. 

Mental  philosophy  under  the  same  aspect  becomes  equally  tangi- 
ble, for  mind  impersonated  (and  there  is  no  other)  is  its  object. 
Mental  philosophy  is  always  some  man  endeavoring  to  see  his  image 
either  in  himself,  or  in  his  fellows.  The  disciples  of  the  schools 
look  for  it  in  the  masters,  and  the  masters  either  in  their  own  con- 
sciousness, or  in  the  works  of  their  fellow  men.  That  is  to  say,  it 
is  men  of  mind  who  are  the  study  of  the  philosopher.     Abstractions 


PSYCHOLOGY.  333 

have  indeed  an  empire  here,  because  words,  which  are  airy  men,  like 
other  men  beget  children,  which  are  words  of  words :  but  the  first 
words  of  the  mind  fit  to  things,  which  are  either  human,  or  the  parts 
of  humanity.  Hence  in  its  centres  every  idea  is  uttered  according 
to  the  human  form. 

We  have  shown  in  the  foregoing  pages  that  the  faculties,  powers 
and  causes  in  man  are  referable  to  the  types  of  the  organization,  and 
that  by  correspondence  these  inner  men  inhabit  the  outer  body; 
thus,  for  example,  that  consciousness  is  the  mind  of  skin  because 
consciousness  itself  is  the  skin  of  the  mind  (p.  283).  At  present, 
we  do  not  enter  further  upon  this  general  subject,  which  for  its  com- 
pletion would  require  us  to  trace  the  whole  outline  of  the  mental 
body,  as  it  runs  parallel  with  the  organs  of  the  physical  frame.  But 
yet  we  will  select  one  or  two  metaphysical  ideas,  in  order  to  show 
their  fitness  to  the  human  form. 

And  first  we  select  that  of  power,  which  has  caused  terrible  star- 
ing to  eyes  philosophic,  for  they  have  been  trying  to  identify  power 
with  nothing  at  all,  and  to  see  it  notwithstanding.  From  Locke  to 
Brown,  through  the  exhausted  receiver  of  David  Hume,  the  essence 
of  power  has  been  spilt,  for  want  of  the  vessel  of  the  form.  And 
what  is  the  form  of  power  but  the  human  arm  with  the  will  in  its 
muscles?  The  metaphysicians  have  asked  whence  they  got  the  idea 
of  power,  but  the  prior  question  is,  Whether  they  have  got  it,  or 
not?  Certainly  if  ever  they  had  it,  they  have  lost  it,  and  their 
chains  of  causes  and  effects  are  ropes  of  sand  or  sequences  of  weak- 
ness. On  the  other  hand,  it  is  plain  to  common  sense,  that  power 
is  shown  by  deeds,  and  that  the  idea  of  power  comes  from  the  show- 
ing; also  that  the  arm  of  man  is  the  central  executive  of  experience. 
All  other  carriage  of  causes  through  effects  is  but  the  comparative 
anatomy  of  that  prime  organ.  But  the  central  form  is  the  main 
symbol,  or  the  essential  body  of  the  idea.  And  by  the  laws  of  cor- 
respondence, the  idea  has  that  body  with  it,  either  consciously,  or 
unconsciously,  whenever  it  is  used  with  force.  And  moreover  from 
the  richness  of  that  body  it  draws  out  imagery  which  is  the  sharpness 
of  the  occasion. 

The  controversy  about  power  could  not  fail  to  lead  to  the  conclu- 
sion, that  there  was  no  such  thing ;  which  was  quite   true  of  the 


334  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

systems  of  the  disputants,  but  not  of  the  industrious  world.  The 
consequence  was,  that  power  was  beyond  experience,  and  disap- 
peared out  of  philosophy ;  though  to  avoid  the  shame  of  avowal, 
its  name  was  kept  for  a  cloak.  Power,  however,  becomes  again  an 
object  of  study  when  it  enters  its  own  proper  form.  Let  us  run 
along  the  arm,  from  shoulder  to  fingers,  to  notice  how  the  emblem 
offers  a  true  habitation  to  the  idea.  First,  man  is  a  living  force,  a 
lake  of  energy,  from  which  the  arm  pushes  forth  as  a  river  of 
waters  of  works ;  for  force  is  the  trunk  and  body  which  urges  at 
the  back  of  power.  Next,  the  shoulder  is  proper  power,  the  place 
where  will  meets  force,  and  where  power  is  born.  Again,  the  arm 
is  strength,  where  the  biceps  and  triceps  which  are  the  blacksmiths 
of  action  live ;  the  men  of  iron  know  where  their  iron  lies.  The 
forearm  is  toughness,  or  the  home  of  sinewy  power.  The  wrist  is 
flexibility,  where  sleight  of  hand  begins.  The  palm  of  the  hand 
is  possession,  or  the  power  of  having;  it  itches  for  the  finger  tips, 
which  give  it  the  power  of  holding.  The  grave  thumb  is  firmness 
or  steadiness,  and  it  stands  short  and  sullen  among  the  fingers, 
which  are  of  the  rapid  temperament  of  skill.  In  the  closed  fist  again 
the  emblem  of  force  comes  forth,  and  completes  the  circle  of  this 
series  of  powers.  This,  for  the  one-sided  view  :  there  are  however 
two  arms ;  the  left  for  all  passive  powers ;  the  right  for  the  active  ; 
and  the  two  are  married  and  sometimes  clasped,  when  the  most 
important  works  are  to  issue.  It  is  fortunate  that  the  thought  of 
power  inhabits  such  an  engine  as  its  proper  loord,  for  as  we  said 
before,  a  wealth  of  suggestion  arises  out  of  the  natural  language  of 
things,  such  as  could  not  proceed  from  artificial  symbols ;  for  the 
etymology  of  this  language  is  the  whole  nature  and  anatomy  of  the 
arm  as  the  exponent  of  the  idea  which  dwells  in  it :  hence  it  intro- 
duces us  into  an  infinite  field  in  the  study  of  power.  But  if  we 
study  it  in  words  or  conceptions  first,  we  get  no  more  than  the 
word  or  conception  involves,  and  we  leave  the  nature  of  the  case 
out.  It  must  surely  be  evident  that  a  child  working  as  well  as  he 
can  with  divine  forms,  in  which  his  mind  too  is  native,  is  better 
circumstanced  for  truth,  than  a  sage  fumbling  ever  so  cleverly  with 
notions  of  his  own,  into  which  no  creation,  but  his  own  laborious 
conceit  has  induced  him.     Experience  itself  declares,  that  a  thou- 


INCARNATIONS.  335 

sand  ideas  arise  when  nature  is  the  source,  for  one  that  can  come 
from  the  closet-cudgeled  brain.  Hence  the  mercy  that  has  still 
incarnated  our  poor  metaphysical  minds  in  dresses  of  such  everlast- 
ing suggestions. 

We  will  try  to  illustrate  one  other  philosophical  idea — to  embody 
another  of  the  ghosts  in  which  philosophers  believe — and  it  shall 
be  the  idea  of  progress,  of  which  the  limbs  of  man  are  the  essential 
emblem.  Here  first  the  feet  are  proper  progress,  to  which  the 
ankles  are  speed,  the  emblem  of  which  is  the  talare  or  winged 
sandal ;  for  the  feet  are  the  measure  of  advance,  and  they  twinkle 
with  swiftness  as  they  run,  by  virtue  of  the  nimble  ankles.  The 
legs  are  straightness,  the  shaft  of  direction,  keeping  the  line  of  the 
object  in  the  midst  of  the  rush  of  joints  and  muscles.  The  thighs 
are  effort,  or  the  brawniness  of  progress  ;  and  the  hips  are  motion 
itself,  globe-jointed  ;  while  the  trunk  which  they  bear  is  weight, 
pressure,  or  necessity,  the  incumbence  of  all  man's  vitals  and  wants 
to  generate  his  progress ;  as  the  same  trunk  determined  to  the  arms 
is  the  by-play  of  all  to  produce  his  skill ;  and  carried  to  the  head, 
is  the  coronation  of  all  in  his  will  and  intelligence.  If  now  it  be 
asked,  What  is  progress  ?  we  say  it  is  all  advancement,  upon  this 
model :  walking  and  running  are  in  its  definitions  in  every  sphere. 
No  writer  has  ever  talked  of  it  for  many  sentences  together,  without 
falling  into  the  symbolism  of  the  legs.  Such  an  one  "  makes  a 
stride  in  advance"  of  his  age ;  such  another  is  a  rearward  spirit, 
and  slow  in  the  movements  of  his  mind  :  this  one  leaps  to  a  conclu- 
sion, and  that  other  goes  rather  backwards  than  forwards.  If  these 
terms  are  metaphors,  it  is  because  the  soul  inhabits  a  metaphor  in 
dwelling  in  the  human  body  (p.  21:2 — 244). 

It  may  be  evident  from  these  sketches,  that  our  organization  (con- 
taining us,  as  it  does)  has  the  power  to  take  up,  and  arrange  on  its 
plan,  the  various  abstract  terms  which  hover  over  the  philosophical 
world.  For  intuitions  may  be  put  into  eyes,  and  reason  into  brains; 
and  philosophers  may  become  seers,  when  they  get  these  organs  of 
which  they  have  mutilated  themselves  so  long.  In  common  human- 
ity let  us  pray  for  this  consummation.  For  the  cripples  of  thought 
are  painful  objects  to  us.  It  is  sad  to  see  the  philosophers  of  pro- 
gress  leaving   their   own  good  legs   behind,  and  hobbling   along 


336  THE  nUMAN  FORM. 

through  the  learned  world  on  wooden  pegs  of  abstractions  !  To  see 
the  reasoners  on  cause  and  effect  ordering  automaton  arms  of  their 
surgeons,  and  stowing  their  own  arms  away  in  the  closet  under- 
neath their  libraries  !  To  watch  the  Kants  putting  off  their  brains, 
volume  by  volume,  that  their  "reasons"  may  be  "pure,"  and  filling 
their  skulls  with  pure  bran  instead  !  These  curtailments  are  too 
lamentable  for  laughter,  for  we  are  all  maimed  in  our  brethren  of 
the  schools.  We  can  only  hope  that  they  will  henceforth  conde- 
scend to  the  human  form,  and  not  make  damnable  imitations  of  it, 
in  words  of  "  leather  and  prunella." 

The  immediate  mission  of  the  doctrine  of  the  human  form  in 
philosphy,  lies  in  the  constitution  of  analogy  as  the  method  of 
reason  in  this  department  of  experience.  For  when  the  mind  is 
consciously  in  its  moulds,  it  becomes  allied  to  all  existence  j  like 
God  and  like  nature  ;  and  philosophy  is  assimilated  to  theology  on 
the  one  hand,  and  to  science  on  the  other ;  nay,  and  as  the  middle 
term,  to  the  life  of  man  in  the  world.  Hitherto  analogical  reason- 
ing has  had  no  proper  place  in  thought,  that  is  to  say,  knowledge 
has  been  deficient  in  the  principle  of  association  j  each  branch  was 
afraid  of  foreigners,  not  knowing  that  their  races  have  the  common 
stem  cf  humanity ;  but  this  once  seen,  the  principle  of  analogy  or 
friendship  begets  intercourse,  and  the  mental  kingdoms  begin  to 
communicate.  In  this  case  the  analogy  falls  into  no  stereotyped 
methods,  but  corrected  and  fortified  by  an  abundant  appeal  to  facts, 
it  touches  that  infinity  which  relatively  to  us  is  one  of  the  first 
lessons  which  existence  has  to  give. 

The  first  object,  therefore,  whether  in  questions  of  mind,  or  body, 
is  to  find  the  fact,  that  is  to  say,  the  prime  form,  or  shape,  of  the 
thing  in  hand  ;  the  second  requisite  is,  to  see  its  illustrations,  or  in 
other  words,  to  view  it  in  connection  with  its  universe ;  and  the 
third  thing,  or  the  end,  is,  to  see  its  universe  over  again  within  it, 
but  according  to  the  facts  of  its  own  being.  The  method  here  is 
analogical,  running  from  the  form  of  the  thing,  through  the  forms  of 
its  circumstances,  and  back  from  these  again  to  the  starting  point, 
which  is  thenceforth  no  speck,  but  a  full-sized  world.  We  have 
already  illustrated  this  in  speaking  of  the  idea  of  power  :  in  discuss- 
ing which  we  first  find  the  form  and   the  body  of  power,  which  is 


UNIVERSAL  ANALOGY  AND  SYMBOLISM.  337 

the  arm  ;  next  we  move  down  the  rails  of  this  through  compa- 
rative powers  in  nature,  and  engines  and  machineries  in  art,  and 
complete  the  circumstantial  empire  of  power  j  and  thirdly,  we  see 
in  the  will  itself,  with  its  own  distinct  facts,  the  arm  of  arm  and 
the  mechanism  of  mechanism  ;  and  one  limb  of  the  inner  man  is 
rescued  from  nothingness  or  abstraction.  In  a  similar  way  the 
analogy  of  the  human  form  makes  the  circuit  of  the  world  in  the 
interest  of  every  other  faculty,  and  brings  back  for  each  a  portion 
of  the  reality  which  belongs  to  man  in  experience.  Nor  does  it 
matter  whether  it  be  a  psychological  problem,  or  a  problem  of  causes, 
or  of  ethics  ;  for  the  mould  of  man  embodies  the  latter  just  as  the 
former,  and  accounts  of  the  nature  of  things,  and  theories  of  duty, 
take  shape  and  order  with  the  same  facility  under  the  banners  of 
the  human  form.  Social  theories  also  are  incarnate  there  j  for  it 
has  been  known  from  of  old  of  the  human  body,  that  its  parts  are 
the  exemplars  of  a  perfect  commonwealth,  intelligence  and  morality ; 
in  other  words,  that  it  is  Christianity  practical  to  very  matter,  built 
into  its  own  shape  of  a  man. 

But  if  the  principle  of  analogy  be  thus  coextensive  with  just 
thought,  it  cannot  fail  at  the  top  to  suggest  the  more  living  princi- 
ple of  universal  symbolism  ;  for  if  the  mind  be  like  the  body,  and 
actuates  the  body,  the  latter  becomes  expressive  through  means  of 
the  likeness  and  the  action  ;  and  in  that  case  the  series  of  existences 
in  the  world  becomes  similarly  expressive,  that  is  to  say,  symbolical 
of  the  mind.  The  face  of  man  thus  travels  throughout  the  uni- 
verse, and  love  and  intelligence  look  out  from  things  with  an  infi- 
nite variety  according  to  their  capacities.  Nature  and  form  are 
therefore  full  of  meaning  to  the  true  philosopher ;  that  is  to  say, 
they  always  signify  something  in  the  mind  and  soul  of  man,  and 
the  last  account  which  can  be  given  of  them  is,  to  trace  out  what 
that  something  is.  For  as  the  arm  means  power,  and  the  eye  sight, 
(though  we  could  not  guess  as  much  unless  our  own  potency  and 
vision  were  therein,)  and  as  power  and  sight  seem  different  from 
these  tools,  so  the  horse  and  the  ass,  gold  and  silver,  the  rose  and  the 
lily,  have  also  meanings  just  as  apparently  remote  from  their  forms  ; 
and  these  meanings  are  inner  functions  from  which  they  come  and 
to  which  they  return.  Without  such  meanings  these  things  have 
29 


338  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

no  communion  with  the  soul  of  things,  just  as  without  power  and 
sight  the  eye  and  arm  do  not  partake  of  the  animation  of  the  body. 
Philosophy  therefore  has  hard  work,  and  a  glorious  mission  before  it, 
in  hearing  what  all  forms  say ;  so  much  indeed  to  do,  that  we  fore- 
see a  good  time  coming,  when  it  will  throw  down  its  luggage  of 
classified  faculties,  empty  its  pockets  of  its  bad  money  of  "  objective 
and  subjective  cognitions,"  and  anxious  for  labor,  like  blind  Barti- 
masus,  cry  out  exceedingly,  "  Lord,  that  I  might  receive  my  sight." 
Then  will  it  find  that  there  are  not  only  more  things  in  heaven  and 
earth  than  it  dreamt  of;  but  that  there  are  also  more  heavens  and 
earths.  For  if  there  is  an  inner  man,  there  is  also  his  experimental 
circumstance,  his  comparative  anatomy,  botany,  mineralogy,  cosmolo- 
gy;  in  short,  an  inner  world  like  this  world  in  its  form,  though  built 
of  spirit  and  life :  and  to  learn  about  this  will  be  the  last  privilege  of 
philosophy,  when  it  becomes  teachable,  as  a  little  child. 

Having  indicated  that  the  symbolism  of  things  is  the  soul  of  the 
comparative  scale  of  nature,  and  that  the  knowledge  of  correspondence 
is  the  punctum  saliens  of  the  sciences,  and  if  we  may  be  pardoned 
the  thought,  a  stream  from  that  divine  expression,  the  creative  Word, 
we  pass  on  to  one  or  two  other  points  connected  with  our  subject. 
And  first  let  us  glance  at  the  application  of  the  human  form  to 
the  doctrine  of  history. 

In  this  field  the  idea  has  been  steadily  but  tacitly  growing  up, 
that  there  is  an  organic  connection  of  races  and  affiliation  of  ages, 
so  that  what  seems  to  be  a  world  of  men,  is  also  but  One  Man. 
The  doctrine  of  association,  admitted  of  the  mind  on  the  one  hand, 
and  of  social  interchange  on  the  other,  helps  us  to  conceive  that  we 
are  all  members  of  one  body.  The  method  of  thought  which  runs 
from  the  great  to  the  small,  and  magnifies  our  parts  into  humanities, 
in  its  other  curve  from  the  small  to  the  great,  brings  mankind  to- 
gether in  a  single  human  body.  What  may  be  the  ultimate  tri- 
umphs of  this  idea — what  sciences  may  come  out  of  its  mighty  loins, 
we  dare  not  venture  to  predict ;  but  one  thing  is  clear,  that  it  will 
purge  history  of  much  occasional  matter,  and  aim  constantly  at  that 
which  is  the  sublime  part  of  all  annals,  the  history  of  Providence  in 
the  world.  For  though  we  may  think  that  we  shape  our  own  courses 
as  isolated  parts,  yet  if  an  architectonic  whole  be  admitted,  the 


THE  GRAND  MAN.  339 

scheme  is  necessarily  God's.  Do  we  not  foresee,  that  history  from 
this  point  of  view  will  unwrite  itself,  and  proceeding  by  the  wisdom 
of  erasures,  find  that  its  grand  task  is  done  for  it,  and  that  Old  and 
New  Testaments  are  its  truth.  For  when  all  is  said,  the  complica- 
tion returns  at  last  to  simple  pieces  of  good  and  evil.  Paradise  lost, 
missed,  and  regained,  are  the  main  concerns.  This  is  the  upshot  of 
the  birth,  education,  career  and  end  of  the  "Grand  Man"  upon 
earth  ;  and  writing  has  to  show,  that  this  is  already  written,  for  this 
among  other  reasons,  that  there  is  no  man  could  write  it.  And  so 
from  the  garrulity  of  old  experience,  and  after  the  fag  of  unroll- 
ings  and  discoveries,  we  find  that  we  are  right  exactly  where  God 
says  to  us :  "I  told  ye  so  from  the  beginning/' 

But  if  the  doctrine  of  the  human  form  brings  unity  to  our  con- 
ceptions of  mankind,  and  sees  the  terrene  man  as  a  globe  of  socie- 
ties and  churches,  its  effects  upon  moral  philosophy  are  not  less 
important,  for  it  embraces  kindreds  and  tongues  in  one  fraternal 
whole.  The  human  is  the  form  of  function,  and  function  is  diver- 
sity of  act  founded  upon  aptitude.  If  the  race  be  indeed  a  man, 
what  vast  differences  are  needed  in  parts  and  individuals,  to  make 
up  his  body  of  such  various  wants  !  The  members  must  consent  to 
differ,  as  the  head  differs  from  the  feet,  or  the  liver  from  the  fingers. 
They  must  also  consent  to  agree  and  succor,  as  closely  and  quickly 
as  the  bodily  commonwealth  itself.  They  must  further  know  that 
they  are  bound  together  in  a  common  lot  of  health  or  disease,  and  that 
there  is  no  wholeness  until  the  entire  system  is  well.  In  this  light 
the  doctrine  of  the  human  form  is  a  standing  policy  of  regeneration 
to  man,  and  sends  out  the  sound  to  bring  in  the  sick,  that  their  evil 
spread  not  to  the  frame.  Here,  in  short,  we  have  the  doctrine  of 
fraternity,  sympathy,  help,  or  the  foundation  of  ethics. 

I  also  deem  that  the  mystery  of  Christ  comes  more  home  to  the 
scientific  mind  through  consideration  of  the  same  doctrine,  though 
far  be  it  from  me  to  attempt  to  base  Christianity  upon  inductions, 
when  it  stands  on  a  divine  rock  of  truth.  But  the  mind,  which  does 
not  know  its  claims,  seems  a  little  advanced  towards  them,  by  find- 
ing that  the  human  form  is  no  accident  among  things,  but  is  the 
ruling  soul  of  the  world,  and  that  to  enter  it  by  divine  means 
amounts  on  these  principles  to  a  reconstruction  of  the  universes  of 


340  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

spirit  and  matter  by  virtue  of  such  Incarnation.  For  if  the  end  be 
changed,  and  a  divine  humanity  substituted  in  nature  for  our  per- 
verted manhood,  then  the  means  leading  to  the  end  are  altered  also, 
and  the  kingdoms  of  nature  and  science  advance  thenceforth  to  no 
man  but  Christ,  who  takes  all  power,  or  is  the  First  and  the  Last, 
who  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  come.  It  were  easy  to  say  more  on  this 
theme,  but  the  hint  must  now  be  sufficient,  that  a  science  resembling 
Christianity  is  possible,  based  upon  the  divinity,  humanity,  and  omni- 
prevalence  of  the  human  form. 

The  doctrine  also  of  immortality  is  not  untouched  by  these  con- 
siderations. The  belief  in  a  personal  immortality,  is  a  belief  in  the 
never-dying  perfections  of  the  human  form.  The  hope  of  a  social 
immortality,  or  a  state  in  which  the  spirit  is  no  lone  existence,  rests 
upon  the  foundation  of  a  permanence  of  true  brotherhood  in  a 
grander  human  form.  Ultimately  it  presupposes,  that  all  races 
under  the  natural  skies,  and  that  majority  who  have  passed  away, 
are  one  stupendous  humanity  whose  life  is  God.  But  we  may  not 
dwell  upon  the  overpowering  vision.  Let  us  be  content  with  declar- 
ing, that  the  more  of  God  there  dwells  in  society,  and  the  more  of 
society  in  the  individual,  and  the  more  of  the  individual  in  the 
body,  and  the  more  of  the  body  in  its  members,  the  more  living  is 
our  life,  and  the  truer  the  science  that  represents  it.  For  of  one 
thing  we  may  be  very  sure,  that  our  proudest  knowledge  is  either 
nothing,  or  a  rill  from  the  cataracts  of  heaven. 

We  have  now,  kind  reader,  endeavored  to  travel  together  over 
some  portions  of  that  garden  of  the  Divine  Wisdom  and  Love,  the 
human  body,  where  the  tender  paternity  of  God  is  so  very  manifest 
to  all  his  children,  and  I  trust  we  have  found  as  we  proceeded,  that 
what  He  does  is  actual  as  well  as  perfect;  that  His  works  like 
Himself  are  positive  substance,  and  meant  for  our  positive  know- 
ledge. In  the  course  of  our  journey  we  have  conversed  repeatedly 
on  our  common  sense,  regarding  it  as  the  foundation  of  our  dis- 
courses. And  once  more,  what  is  this  common  sense?  It  is  the 
active  light  which  follows  whatever  is  largely  experienced  and  rightly 
done;  the  mundane  version  of  that  scripture,  "If  ye  will  do  the 
works,  ye  shall  know  of  the  doctrine."  It  is  not  common  opinion 
or  thought,  both  of  which  may  be  wrong,  or  vague ;  nay,  it  is  not 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES.  341 

opinion  or  thought  at  all ;  but  it  is  the  whole  living  present  hour, 
standing  on  the  pier  of  the  whole  past,  and  about  to  embark  with 
cheerful  courage  upon  the  unknown  welcome  future.  This  is  the 
fortune  of  life  and  action,  and  the  price  of  the  sciences ;  nay,  the 
reaper  of  which  science  is  the  gleaner.  This  is  the  bond  of  times 
and  the  principle  of  toleration.  This  makes  learning  humble,  and 
simple  natures  great. 


ADDITIONAL  NOTES. 


p.  300. 
The  reverse  of  the  biblical  revelation  of  God  as  a  Divine  Man,  is  the  philoso- 
pher's notion  of  God  from  physical  immensity,  as  an  indistinct  being  whose 
sensorium  is  space.  "  Jupiter  est  quodcunqne  vides^  &c,  &c.  The  modern 
astronomical  sublime,  in  which  the  greatness  of  the  Creator  is  deduced  from 
the  mileage  of  the  universe,  and  God  is  increased  by  naughts  according  to  quad- 
rillions, quintillions,  and  sextillions,  is  like  the  child's  notion  of  a  great  man  or  a 
great  book,  which  amounts  of  course  to  a  giant,  or  an  imperial  folio.  It  is  not, 
however,  by  piling  Ossa  upon  Pelion,  that  divine  size  is  gained  :  the  way  to  it  is 
by  common  sense  following  Scripture,  and  recognizing  the  intenseness  of  those 
human  qualities  which  are  the  greatness  of  man,  and  to  which  matter  is  a  ser- 
vant, for  they  say  to  it,  "  Go,  and  it  goeth  ;  Come,  and  it  eometh."  So  likewise 
omnipresence  is  purely  divine,  and  has  not  to  do  with  space,  but  with  wisdom  ; 
in  which  latter  space  itself  is  but  a  nook.  The  biblical  or  human  view  is  then 
according  to  the  uprightness  of  reason  ;  whereas  the  notion  of  the  Godhead  from 
space  is  an  infinite  sprawl,  reason  down  wallowing  on  its  knees  and  nose. 

p.  301. 
We  here  take  occasion  to  warn   the  reader  against  the  fallacy  of  the  notion 
that  man  is  an  infinite  who  has  been  degraded  to  the  human  form,  when  the  fact 
is  that  he  is  dust,  which  is  ever  being  raised  by  God  through  and  in  the  human 
tbrm.     For  as  we  show  in  the  text,  the  human  form  is  mind,  life,  and  infinity. 

p.  314. 
The  humanizing  function  of  the  arts  is  indeed  a  phrase  which  admits  and  suc- 
cinctly conveys  the  whole  of  this  argument. 

p.  319. 
We  may  regard  this  view  of  the  human  frame  as  the  doctrine  of  the  freedom 
of  man,,  for  it  opens  avenues  into  all  expanses,  and  sinks  its  shaft  into  liberty, 
which  is  the  principle  of  sufficient  space.  The  dead  microscopic  view,  on  the 
other  hand,  is  the  doctrine  of  cells  or  prisons,  not  indeed  unfit  for  a  limit  below, 
but  which  ought  to  be  kept  below,  lest  the  mind,  tied  to  what  it  contemplates, 
should  become  a  scientific  bottle  imp  in  the  cases  of  its  own  museum. 

29* 


342  THE  HUMAN  FORM. 

p.  33S. 
By  virtue  of  the  human  form  all  the  ages  of  thought  reappear  upon  the  scene 
together;  the  mythologic  and  the  scientific;  both  of  them  contained  in  that 
which  is  the  first  and  the  last,  or  the  theologic  epoch:  but  by  inhumanity  and 
atheism  man  is  a  perpetual  bastard,  always  vilifying  father  and  mother;  like  an 
enemy  burning  the  bridge  of  time  behind  him  as  he  runs  ;  and  those  who  come 
after  him  being  of  the  like  mind,  of  course  his  days  are  short  in  the  land  which 
his  own  conceit  gives  him. 

p.  339. 
The  human  is  the  form  of  originality,  or  of  special  gifts  and  activities  to  each 
member  of  the  body ;  for  its  perfection  lies  in  the  unlikeness,  yet  accordance,  of 
the  uses  which  each  part  ministers  to  every  other.  Agreeably  to  this  form,  every 
man  has  a  genius  of  his  own  (p.  80),  or  he  would  have  no  function  in  his  com- 
monwealth. The  animal  form  is  the  reverse  of  this,  for  animality  limited  to 
self,  works  for  no  commonwealth,  but  aims  to  put  itself  in  the  room  of  others, 
and  thus  to  engender  universal  sameness  of  functions,  each  animal  striving  to 
have  all  advantage,  and  to  be  everything  in  its  sphere.  There  are,  then,  two 
opposite  forms  in  man,  and  out  of  him,  viz.,  the  human  form  divine,  and  the 
monkey  form  infernal.  And  there  are  two  classifications  of  nature  correspond- 
ing with  these  unlike  principles.  See  our  tract  published  some  years  since,  on 
The  Groztping  of  Animals. 


ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  HEALTH,  343 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HEALTH. 


Among  the  functions  of  human  life,  the  presentation  of  ideals 
in  mind,  body  and  estate,  is  one  which  influences  all  motion  and 
sensation,  and  gives  faculty  its  direction  and  play.  It  seems  as  if 
inertia  were  so  tied  to  motion,  pain  to  pleasure,  and  imperfection 
to  perfection,  that  they  tend  to  run  out  of  themselves,  and  to  seek 
something  beyond  them  to  which  we  give  the  general  name  of  health. 
How  we  come  to  think  that  we  have  a  right  to  be  healthy — at  least 
that  this  is  our  proper  nature,  is  a  problem  admitting  different  solu- 
tions ;  but  that  our  bodies  feel  disease  as  a  grievance,  admits  of  no 
doubt  whatever.  Shall  we  say,  according  to  the  last  Chapter,  that 
it  is  one  of  the  functions  of  the  human  form  (p.  322),  to  subject 
us  to  ideals,  and  to  put  us  under  this  air-pump  of  wholeness  and 
happiness,  that  we  may  gasp  to  fill  its  limits  ?  However  this  may 
be,  the  fact  remains,  that  through  all  disease  we  look  wistfully  after 
soundness;  from  the  depth  of  incompetency  aspire  to  strength,  and 
long  to  be  icell  through  our  little  day,  that  duty  and  pleasure  may 
not  be  stunted  in  our  hands,  but  enjoy  their  legitimate  proportions. 

We  seem  to  know  sentimentally  what  that  general  health  would 
be  which  we  desire.  To  fill  our  places  in  the  world,  and  to  love  to 
fill  them,  are  the  best  ends  of  our  aspirations  :  to  be  so  organized, 
or  so  minded,  which  you  will,  as  to  be  spontaneously  able  and  cheer- 
ful in  our  labors,  at  the  same  time  that  those  labors  are  not  only 
our  choice,  but  the  wants  of  the  time.  This  includes  the  rapid  di- 
rection of  every  muscle  to  the  private  in  the  public  service;  the 
bending  of  sense  straight  to  the  objects  in  hand ;  the  limitation  of 
sensibilities  to  the  occasion,  or  the  running  of  life  in  the  pipes  of 
duty ;  and  finally  the  control  of  the  all-controlling  mind  under  a 


344  HEALTH. 

genius  which  is  called  felicity  when  its  works  come  forth  with  com- 
plete adaptation  to  the  time  and  space  which  they  are  to  fill. 

Health,  in  short,  by  the  old  definition  (and  we  know  of  no  better), 
is  harmony  in  its  most  considerable  meaning — harmony  of  the  parts 
of  the  body  with  themselves — harmony  of  the  mind  with  the  body 
— and  harmony  of  both  with  the  circumstances  and  ordinances  into 
which  we  are  born  :  harmony  also  of  the  human  frame  with  the 
climate  that  it  inhabits,  and  with  external  nature  in  its  variety. 
The  science  of  health,  then,  is  ideal  physiology  and  psychology,  and 
the  art  of  healing  embraces  the  means  that  may  conduct  us  from 
the  present  or  any  state  of  unhealth,  to  that  picture  in  the  clouds 
which  we  cannot  give  up  if  we  cannot  reach  it — the  means  which 
may  gradually  make  some  part  of  our  ideals  real. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  dark  side  observe  to  health,  in  the  exist- 
ence of  innumerable  maladies  and  diseases,  which  beset  human 
nature ;  otherwise  health  would  not  have  been  heard  of,  but  instead 
of  it  existence  full  of  the  play  of  power,  and  of  the  power  of  play : 
but  upon  our  present  experience  as  a  background,  pain,  which  is  the 
writhing  and  restiveness  of  the  human  form  away  from,  and  against 
disease,  sketches  out  with  the  pencils  of  hope  and  desire  the  linea- 
ments of  a  bright  possibility.  In  this  light  we  look  at  health  from 
disease,  which  is  perhaps  its  only  point  of  view.  For,  as  we  said 
before,  if  that  ground  be  left,*  the  name  of  health  becomes  too  nega- 
tive, and  perishes ;  and  in  its  place  other  substances  arise,  such  as 
joy,  love,  activity,  and  all  those  states  which  are  blessings  irrespec- 
tive of  bans.  In  that  case  we  do  not  think  of  state  but  contemplate 
action,  and  valetudinarianism  ceasing  out  of  mind  and  body,  leaves 
us  free  and  fearless  for  our  business. 

Health  is  therefore  only  the  beginning  of  a  just  consideration  of 
the  human  being,  as  it  were  the  birth  of  man  into  the  realms  of 
humanity ;  and  yet  as  he  is  ever  beginning  afresh,  it  pursues  him 
with  new  exigencies  along  the  stages  of  his  journey.  To  be  well 
with  the  world  of  this  hour,  and  equal  to  the  existing  situation,  is 
a  demand  which  is  always  changing,  and  health  must  be  flexible  to 
meet  it;  especially  so,  in  a  being,  who  is  a  child  to-day,  a  youth  to- 
morrow, and  an  old  man  in  time,  and  who  has  no  experience  of  these, 
his  eras,  until  they  come  upon  him.     For  health  implies  a  perpe- 


ANIMAL  AND  HUMAN  HEALTH.  345 

tual  self-adjustment  of  a  new  needle  to  a  new  pole.  And  thus, 
however  high  we  rise,  the  problem  of  health,  or  some  difficulty  of 
being  well,  may  be  expected  to  recur  to  us.  The  beasts  are  better 
off,  and  worse.  They  are  acclimated  from  the  first,  or  if  they  need 
change  of  air  or  season,  they  are  naturally  bi-climatic,  and  run  along 
the  magnetic  streams  to  light  and  warmth,  caring  little  for  earth, 
but  very  constant  to  summer.  Then  again  the  cup  of  their  heart's 
blood  is  measured  to  objects,  and  they  are  drunk  with  no  desires  but 
those  which  nature  prospers.  Their  muscles  also  are  full  of  spirit, 
and  do  not  tear  from  contrariety  of  minds.  And  even  if  instinct 
be  wrong  on  one  track,  and  disorder  them,  animal  magnetism  is 
their  physician,  and  like  clairvoyants  they  run  to  grass  and  herb, 
and  nibble  their  healing  leaves  out  of  the  pharmacy  of  things.  In 
a  word,  their  potent  life  burns  up  sickliness,  and  makes  medicine  of 
little  avail;  excepting  indeed  in  those  cases  where  a  false  domestica- 
tion denaturalizes  them.  So  far  they  have  a  superior  lot,  and  earth 
is  their  heaven.  But  on  the  other  hand,  brute  life  and  health  are 
not  enviable  for  us.  The  beasts  are  nature's  simpletons  who  are 
pleased  with  a  little,  and  that  little,  of  the  lowest  order.  They  are 
well  with  their  world,  because  it  is  so  single  and  small.  Could  they 
have  another  shown  them,  by  those  other  eyes  which  we  possess, 
they  would  pant  and  struggle  as  we  do  to  the  ever  new  adjustment. 
Instead  of  living  on  the  bare  surface,  they  would  dig  in  the  mines, 
and  build  up  their  palaces  of  sanity.  Such  is  undoubtedly  the  cause 
and  object  of  human  diseases — to  carry  us  deeper  and  higher  than 
brute  health  can  go  ;  or  to  make  the  health  of  soul,  mind  and  body 
inseparable  and  coordinate.  For  this  reason,  there  is  no  joyous  in- 
habitation of  the  earth  for  man,  unless  the  inner  man  also  be  right 
with  his  world,  and  the  social  with  his ;  or  unless  wholeness  be 
fulfilled.  Our  maladies  therefore  are  warnings  and  signs  of  a  lost 
integrity,  which  is  to  be  sought,  and  found  again  ;  and  where  cure 
does  not  come,  it  is  an  evidence  that  the  problem  has  been  stated 
and  worked  on  some  partial  ground,  and  that  a  further  view  and  a 
higher  sacrifice  are  asked.  We  may  terminate  the  comparison  be- 
tween man  and  beasts  by  saying,  that  the  health  of  the  latter  is 
already  complete  and  natural,  while  the  human  can  never  be  com- 
pleted, but  is  always  integral  and  progressive.     If  reason  shows  un- 


346  HEALTH. 

wholeness,  the  pain  of  the  proof*  is  contemporaneous  with  the  jour- 
neying of  a  star  from  the  east,  which  stands  at  last  as  a  heraldic 
sky-point  over  a  new  born  health. 

In  the  few  remarks  which  we  have  to  offer  in  this  Chapter  upon  the 
subject  of  health,  we  shall  follow  that  division  which  is  generally 
admitted,  and  consider  the  individual  from  two  points  of  view ;  first- 
ly, as  containing  within  himself  the  grounds  of  a  certain  stock  of 
health  or  disease,  which  falls  under  the  ordinary  department  of  me- 
dicine :  and  secondly,  as  being  surrounded  by  circumstances  favor- 
able, or  otherwise,  to  health;  which  constitutes  the  field  of  what  is 
termed  public  health,  or  as  we  might  name  it,  social  health.  It  is 
however  no  part  of  our, design  to  contribute  directly  to  either  of  the 
branches  of  practice  which  are  busied  with  these  two  walks ;  but 
rather  to  complete  and  conclude  the  physiological  and  psychological 
subjects  that  have  already  occupied  us  in  the  foregoing  Chapters. 
A  popular  education  on  these  themes,  is  very  near  our  aim;  and 
general  notions  only  can  therefore  enter  into  our  pages :  yet  we  feel 
that  if  the  eye  can  be  opened  to  the  compass  of  the  subject,  we  shall 
not  fail  in  the  long  run  to  have  brought  to  practice  those  first  helps 
which  depend  upon  the  insights  and  expectations  of  the  learner. 
There  are  abundance  of  good  books,  and  zealous  men,  engaged  upon 
details  and  sciences :  be  it  our  endeavor  to  elicit  some  little  of  the 
order  and  light  in  which  they  are  working,  and  to  present  it  to  me- 
mory under  an  organic  form.  In  the  first  place,  therefore,  to  pro- 
ceed from  the  great  to  the  small,  we  shall  consider  the  subjects  and 
method  of  social  health ;  and  in  the  next  place,  we  shall  speak,  not 
of  individual  diseases,  but  of  the  various  systems  of  medical  treat- 
ment which  are  applied  to  disease,  and  follow  its  fashions  and  moulds. 
I  do  not  know  that  our  design  can  be  likened  to  anything  more  apt- 
ly than  to  a  map,  in  which  the  fewness  of  places,  the  smallness  of 
size,  and  the  poorness  of  outline,  are  themselves  valuable  for  giving 
a  first  view  to  that  public  which  does  not  travel.  There  will  be 
tracts  of  terra  incoc/nita  also,  for  which  the  excuse  shall  be,  that 
they  are  left  blank,  and  not  completed  for  deception. 

And  first  a  few  words  on  the  difference  between  the  private,  and 
the  public  or  social  health. 

The  science  of  private  health  is  of  individual  concern,  and  lies  in 


PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  HEALTH.  347 

making  the  best  of  our  own  circumstances,  for  the  strength,  im- 
provement and  enjoyment  of  the  organism.  It  chooses  a  healthful 
place  to  live  in;  keeps  clean  the  person  and  the  house;  superintends 
diet  and  clothing,  and  all  that  belongs  to  cheer;  and  aims  also  to 
keep  the  mind  easy.  In  short,  it  is  the  analysis  and  perfection  of 
boclykeeping  and  housekeeping.  But  it  stops  for  the  most  part  with 
the  front  door.  It  gives  you  the  best  of  everything,  but  without 
insuring  the  goodness  of  the  best.  You  can  have  excellent  meat 
and  wine  on  this  principle,  if  the  town  supplies  them;  good  air,  if 
the  neighborhood  be  favorable;  good  drainage,  if  there  is  a  natural 
outfall,  and  the  sea  washes  up  conveniently  to  carry  away  your 
refuse.  This  private  health  is  the  property  of  the  strong,  the  vigor- 
ous, the  wealthy  and  the  fortunate,  who  have  the  pick  of  circum- 
stances, and  are  the  favorites  of  the  hour;  but  even  with  them  it 
is  casual  and  impure,  not  the  maximum  of  the  public  health,  but  the 
minimum  of  the  public  inconvenience  and  disease.  It  is  like  a  high 
hill  at  whose  base  the  fever-vapors  curl  and  steam,  and  whose  top 
they  threaten  to  invade,  and  by  subtle  fears  do  invade,  and  some 
one  or  other  of  its  inhabitants  drops  down  ever  and  anon,  shot  by 
invisible  arrows  from  beneath.  That  superior  vigor  of  mankind 
which  seems  to  need  no  tending,  and  to  burn  like  fine  wax  without 
scientific  trimming,  is  the  subject  of  this  private  health,  which  is  no 
system  or  doctrine,  but  a  resource  of  carnal  virtue  and  goodness 
above,  and  in  spite  of,  the  elements.  Nature  has  done  what  she 
can  in  producing  the  robust  individuals  who  belong  to  this  class,  but 
it  is  committed  to  ourselves  to  enlarge  the  class  until  it  embraces 
everybody. 

The  science  of  public  health  undertakes  this  task,  and  aims  to  do 
for  everybody  what  it  seems  nobody's  vocation  to  do  for  himself. 
Private  weakness  and  impotence  is  its  field  of  operations ;  the  want 
of  virtue  in  persons  is  what  it  has  to  compensate.  It  knows  of 
houses  only  as  little  dots  in  streets,  and  streets  only  as  fine  lines  in 
towns.  In  short  it  looks  from  the  community  at  individuals,  and 
is  necessarily  tyrannous  until  its  work  is  done,  after  which  freedom 
of  a  new  kind  breathes  everywhere.  It  washes  the  foulest  faces 
first,  strikes  at  the  Stygian  neighborhoods,  keeps  company  with 
publicans  and  sinners,  and  always  begins  where  it  left  off,  with  the 


348  HEALTH. 

remaining  dirtiest  man.  Soap  and  towels  from  the  toes  upwards; 
11  he  who  would  be  clean,  needs  only  to  wash  his  feet."  Yet  the 
problem  grows  up  street  after  street,  until  we  find  that  it  is  the 
whole  metropolis  that  is  stated.  In  good  faith,  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  private  health ;  health  is  the  Saxon  for  wholeness,  and  whole- 
ness is  the  public  health.     "YVe  shall  further  illustrate  this  presently. 

Public  health  is  either  an  autocrat,  or  nothing.  Independence  is 
its  aversion,  for  it  has  to  trace  and  cleanse  the  dependence  of  man 
upon  his  circumstances  and  his  fellows.  When  it  has  driven  its 
ploughshare  through  a  foul  neighborhood,  sown  with  salt  the  founda- 
tions of  sin,  and  carried  rivers  of  water  under  the  new  streets,  it 
then  knocks  at  the  house-doors,  from  the  worst  to  the  best,  and 
rummages  privacy  with  a  curiosity  most  detestable  and  proper.  It 
insists  that  the  public  fountain  shall  have  a  squirt  in  every  room; 
that  the  pure  air  outside  shall  widen  the  windows  and  space  the 
rooms;  that  the  underground  kitchen  shall  be  plucked  up,  and  set 
in  the  sunshine;  that  the  chimneys  shall  burn  their  smoke;  and 
the  sewers  have  their  decorum  thought  of  in  their  beginnings  in  the 
chamber.  Thus  it  ordains  that  the  anatomy  of  the  house  shall 
spring  by  a  fibril  of  propriety  from  that  of  the  street:  and  this,  by 
a  fibre  from  that  of  the  town ;  and  that  every  one  shall  know  what 
his  neighbor's  income  of  health  is,  that  pretension  may  die,  and  the 
easy  manners  of  a  common  stock  of  sanity  and  consequence  arise. 
Such  is  public  in  contradistinction  to  private  health;  the  latter  is 
the  vis  medicatrix  naturae,  which  takes  stock  of  the  existing  health, 
and  sums  it  up,  for  life  or  death,  by  a  balance  of  figures:  the  former 
is  the  vis  medicatrix  hominis,  which  enlarges  the  stock,  and  pro- 
mises to  make  it  all-sufficient.  The  business  of  public  health  is 
prevention,  but  that  of  private  health  is  cure. 

We  shall  now  speak  a  little  more  in  detail  of  the  exacting  nature 
of  this  new  duty,  and  for  this  purpose  we  shall  group  the  various 
branches  of  it  upon  the  bodily  organs.  Fop  it  will  be  evident  to 
the  reader  of  the  former  Chapters,  that  our  method  of  considering 
the  world  and  the  society  as  the  procession  of  the  principles  of  the 
human  frame,  offers  facilities  for  the  treatment  of  this  question,  and 
throws  it  into  an  order  parrallel  with  that  of  the  body  itself,  (pp. 
107,  155—157,  165,  229,  230,  289—300.) 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OF  THE  STOMACH.  349 

Like  babies  on  the  subject,  let  us  begin  with  the  stomach,  which 
is  the  most  interesting  thing  in  all  our  early  considerations.  And 
what  are  the  demands  of  the  stomach  and  the  alimentary  tube  as 
regards  the  public  service?  Evidently  they  require  that  cultivated 
nature  shall  be  conducted  into  them,  and  their  own  rejections  be 
cleanly  drawn  off  into  nature  again  :  that  is  to  say,  that  the  world 
shall  be  an  alimentary  tube  leading  to  them  from  the  one  side,  and 
a  hidden  intestine  or  rectum  of  drains  passing  from  them  on  the 
other.  Health  immediately,  and  existence  soon,  demand  that  the 
stomach  shall  not  be  isolated,  but  that  the  earth  shall  be  cut  into 
ways  that  correspond  to,  and  converge  into,  it.  Wherever  there  is 
a  break  in  the  tube  of  functions  that  conducts  from  the  earth  to  the 
mouth,  a  corresponding  inanition  takes  place  in  the  latter;  and 
wherever  there  is  a  stoppage  in  that  other  tube  that  should  run  from 
the  belly  to  the  ground,  a  constipation  is  created  somewhere  in  the 
upper  parts.  Our  towns  are  in  a  state  of  permanent  inanition  and 
constipation,  owing  to  the  fact  that  markets,  and  drainage,  are  not 
laid  down  to,  and  from,  every  mouth  or  inhabitant.  The  violation 
of  the  calls  of  the  frame,  which  is  satisfied  with  nothing  but  the 
conquest  of  the  external  world,  leads  to  loss  of  health,  public  and 
therefore  private.  And  here  we  observe  a  second  time,  that  public 
and  private  health  are  inseparable,  and  only  exist  apart  in  excep- 
tions that  prove  the  rule  of  their  union. 

But  how  much  is  involved  in  that  single  reconstruction  of  circum- 
stances of  which  the  alimentary  tube  is  the  missionary :  how  much 
wise  industry  in  the  creation  of  food,  and  honesty  in  delivering  it 
from  hand  to  hand;  and  on  the  other  part,  how  complete  a  belief  in 
the  interest  of  the  commonwealth  in  cleanness  and  order.  This 
lowest  department  of  sanitary  duties,  begins  to  demand  virtues  and 
faculties  which  are  not  yet  real ;  in  fact,  the  universal  kindness  of  a 
higher  polity  than  exists  on  earth.  But  what  then  ?  shall  we  give 
up  effort;  or  shall  we  not  rather  be  grateful,  that  past  our  powers  to 
attain,  the  wants  of  the  body  are  prophetic? 

There  is  no  organ,  however,  which  stops  with  the  material  ques- 
tion, but  all  flesh  has  psychical  inhabitants,  who  make  their  own 
fearful  demands.  The  public  peace,  prosperity  and  ease  constitute 
30 


350  HEALTH. 

an  atmosphere  of  circumstance  around  the  stomach,  which  allows  our 
food  to  do  us  good,  or  causes  the  reverse  effect.  Health  is  like  the 
funds,  and  digestion  and  indigestion  have  their  daily  quotations,  if 
we  could  but  read  them.  Low  anxieties  and  love  of  money  for  its 
own  sake,  neglect  of  the  Divine  truth,  "  sufficient  unto  the  day  is 
the  evil  thereof/'  make  whole  ages  dyspeptic;  and  neglect  of  the 
republic  of  other  men  than  ourselves,  creates  stoppage  in  that  which 
should  be  a  unanimous  society.  Hence  the  public  health  of  the 
stomach  embraces  even  these  considerations ;  and  indeed  as  the  lower 
parts  of  its  duties  are  fulfilled,  these  higher  ones  come  out  only  the 
more  prominently  in  their  claims. 

On  our  lips,  the  alimentary  tube  changes  to  the  skin,  and  the  next 
realm  of  public  health  which  we  mention,  is  that  which  concerns  the 
latter  organ.  The  skin  is  as  exacting  upon  us  as  the  rest  of  the 
body.  A  polity  of  healthy  skins  can  be  maintained  by  only  the  most 
vast  demands  upon  our  industry  and  sciences.  Everything  about  us 
must  be  clean-skinned,  or  half  our  personal  washing  is  wasted.  The 
skin  leads  outwards  by  forceful  channels,  and  will  not  be  stopped 
even  at  great  distances,  without  its  emanations  recoiling  upon  the 
health ;  it  allures  surrounding  influences  inwards  from  equal  lengths, 
and  will  not  be  deprived  of  them,  or  supplied  with  them  in  a  malig- 
nant form,  without  withering,  or  diseasing,  the  organization. 

The  effects  of  climate  and  circumstances  upon  the  skin,  are  not 
less  remarkable  than  obvious  :  for  it  sympathizes  directly  with  the 
places  and  spaces  around  it,  and  takes  its  complexion  from  them. 
The  inhabitants  of  the  regions  of  gusty  winds  have  weather-beaten 
faces,  and  lines  as  of  the  tempests  blown  howling  into  their  skins. 
Mountain  races  have  stony  or  granitic  features,  as  of  rocks  abandoned 
to  the  barren  air.  The  people  of  moist  and  marshy  places  look 
watery  and  lymphatic.  Those  where  extremes  of  temperature  pre- 
vail for  long  periods,  are  leathern  and  shriveled,  as  though  their 
skins  had  given  up  the  contest  with  nature,  and  died  upon  their 
faces.  And  so  forth.  These  events  show  how  much  the  skin  is 
influenced  by  the  circumstances  about  it. 

It  is  equally  certain  that  the  surfaces  of  the  body,  represented  by 
the  skin,  are  the  medium  of  contagion,  which  is  the  railway  of  the 
public  disease.      For  this  organ,  which   compasses   all  our  parts 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OF  THE  SKIN.  351 

until  they  form  one,  true  to  itself,  offers  a  sympathetic  plane  on 
which  the  health  and  disease  of  the  community  also  tend  to  universal 
oneness  or  diffusion.  There  is  no  breach  of  continuity  on  the  sur- 
face of  mankind,  but  the  skin  of  the  poor  joins  to  that  of  the  rich, 
and  epidemics  run  without  ceremony  from  the  one  to  the  other;  only 
more  sparse  as  they  spot  the  palaces,  because  cleanness  is  more 
studied  there. 

After  the  stomach  has  taken  care  of  our  nourishment,  and  the 
lungs  have  looked  to  our  breath,  the  skin  has  to  provide  for  both  in 
a  kind  of  infinitesimal  sense.  For  it  supplies  us  with  food,  and  dis- 
burdens us  of  excretions;  though  both  its  aliments  and  rejections 
are  for  the  most  part  invisible  :  it  also  washes  itself  in  air,  and  keeps 
itself  in  motion ;  the  former,  by  itself;  the  latter,  under  the  super- 
intendence of  the  lungs.  The  skin  is  the  theatre  of  influences;  the 
other  organs  we  have  mentioned  deal  with  more  palpable  stuff.  There 
is  a  corresponding  delicacy  in  the  question  of  the  public  and  private 
health  of  the  skin. 

Great,  however,  is  the  plainness,  and  equally  great  the  mystery 
of  cleanliness.  It  is  one  of  those  terms  that  will  hardly  be  chained 
to  a  physical  sense ;  we  no  sooner  begin  to  treat  it,  than  it  buds  like 
Aaron's  rod,  and  blossoms  into  morals.  Frequent  ablutions  wash 
away  the  sordes  of  our  bodies,  open  our  pores,  enable  us  to  emanate 
with  freedom,  and  with  freedom  to  take  in  what  the  atmosphere  can 
yield  us.  The  model  and  mirror  of  these  effects  is  presented  in 
our  daily  washings,  which  make  us  feel  clean*     This  clean  feeling 

*  In  speaking  of  the  saliva  we  took  occasion  to  say  a  few  words  on  the  emo- 
tional nature  of  the  secretions  and  excretions  (pp.  152 — 154).  The  field  is  a  wide 
one,  and  embraces  all  the  living  processes.  Feelings  are  changing  in  our  bodies 
with  every  transport  of  the  animated  fluids  from  place  to  place.  The  current  of 
blood  above  is  the  signal  of  one  set  of  feelings,  and  its  rush  below  produces  an- 
other; for  it  carries  soul  with  it,  and  its  sentiments  are  according  to  the  parts 
from  and  to  which  it  is  sent.  The  same  is  the  case  with  the  perspirations  ;  they 
carry  away  old  feelings,  the  perspirations  of  the  soul,  and  remove  them  from  the 
person.  So  also  do  the  dejections  of  a  grosser  kind.  Hence  the  exhilaration  con- 
sequent upon  the  latter  functions  when  satisfactorily  performed.  In  washing, 
especially,  an  effect  is  produced  which  we  may  term  material-psychical,  and  which 
everyone  must  have  experienced  ;  a  sentiment  of  new  vigor,  as  though  the  mind 
itself  were  washed  in  the  skin.  We  do  not  know  "  how  we  are"  in  the  mornings, 
or  what  is  the  promised  complexion  of  our  day,  until  our  ablutions  have  taken 


352  HEALTH. 

is  the  basis  of  correct  perceptions.  It  gives  self-respect,  which  marks 
us  out  from  the  things  about  us  (pp.  282 — 285)  ;  makes  us  judicial 
among  our  associates ;  establishes  a  ring  of  healthy  sentiment  around 
us,  and  between  us  and  other  things ;  and  enables  us  to  discriminate 
between  clean  and  unclean  in  whatever  seeks  to  enter  our  feelings, 
or  aspires  to  stay  there.  In  short,  it  places  a  cordon  of  pure  life 
around  our  bodies,  as  a  troop  of  angels  around  the  bed  and  before 
the  path  of  the  faithful.  Between  the  life,  thus  whitely  washen,  and 
its  objects,  nothing  intervenes  to  hinder  immediate  judgment  and 
action  so  far  as  the  surface  is  concerned.  The  light  of  the  sky  and 
the  vigor  of  the  man,  kiss  upon  his  skin,  and  cement  a  covenant  of 
justice,  in  which  every  predominance  is  conceded  to  the  lordly  organ- 
ization. 

On  the  other  hand,  dirt  upon  the  skin  is  not  merely  dirt  but 
dirty  feeling;  and  the  latter  is  no  sooner  set  up  than  it  travels  soul- 
wards.  The  skin  is  given,  among  other  ends,  as  a  vivacious  sentinel 
to  prevent  the  entrance  into  us  of  whatever  is  alien  and  impure. 
The  purity  of  the  sentinel  is  of  the  greatest  value  to  this  exercise 
of  his  functions.  Dirty  feeling  does  not  know  dirt  when  it  comes, 
but  is  bribed  by  it,  and  lets  it  pass  the  barrier.  Hence  an  un- 
clean skin,  besides  adulterating  the  feelings,  admits  a  material 
adulteration  to  the  organs.  Furthermore,  by  clogging  the  pores,  it 
prevents  the  beloved  dirt  from  escaping  outwards;  until  at  length 
the  body,  crusted  over  with  itself,  abrogates  the  skin  functions,  and 
finds  another  and  violent  eruption  in  disease.  For  nobody  can  stop 
long  in  himself;  he  must  go  forth  as  a  messenger  of  life,  or  death, 
to  those  about  him.  And  when  he  ceases  to  transpire  health,  spe- 
cific sickness  is  conceived  in  the  struggle ;  the  system  makes  new 

place.  The  result  is  often  quite  different  from  what  we  feared  before  these  pro- 
cesses were  undergone. 

The  generative  process,  with  its  sheddings,  is  the  head  of  the  material-psychical 
acts,  and  as  it  secretes  the  germ  of  man  himself,  it  affords  a  light  as  to  the  force 
and  function  of  the  other  living  secretions.  What  a  quantity  of  imaginations  the 
seed  at  once  carries  out  of  the  mind  and  body;  and  what  an  architectural  effect 
it  produces  on  its  matrix  !  Now,  likewise,  in  their  places  and  degrees,  the  other 
excretions  export  emotion  from  the  organism  ;  and  when  they  have  come  out, 
and  reached  a  suitable  nidus,  they  show  that  they  are  seeds,  and  after  their  own 
fa>hion  germinate.  In  this  way  the  world  is  sown  broadcast  by  the  natures  of 
all  men,  animals  and  plants.     See  our  Chapter  on  the  Skin,  pp.  261 — 268. 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OP  THE  SKIN.  353 

terms  between  itself  and  nature;  a  part  of  the  privileges  of  life  is 
ceded,  and  the  various  maladies  appear.  This  is  the  history  of  one 
class  of  physical  evils,  engendered  by  the  neglected  cleanliness,  not 
of  years  alone,  but  of  generations. 

The  private  health  of  the  skin  subsists  in  the  public  health,  pri- 
vate cleanliness  also  in  public,  as  a  man  in  his  society.  There  may 
be  excellent  citizens  in  a  debased  community,  and  cleanly  persons 
in  a  dirty  town;  but  the  surrounding  influences  arc  against  them; 
and  they  are  good  and  clean  in  spite  of  example,  by  mere  manhood 
and  as  it  were  miracle.  The  labors  of  cleanliness,  though  cheerfully 
undertaken,  are  Herculean  and  incessant.  Often  too  they  are  un- 
successful, for  the  laws  of  nature  work  in  masses,  and  public  neglect 
is  visited  not  unfrequently  upon  the  just  as  well  as  upon  the  unjust. 
Hence  the  necessity  of  treating  these  questions  from  the  public  side. 
A  clean  house  in  a  sooty  town ;  a  well  ventilated  room  with  an  ad- 
jacent swamp  or  churchyard ;  a  chastened  appetite  with  unwhole- 
some provisions — these  are  the  impossibilities  which  the  prudent 
ones  are  laboring  to  establish  in  the  city  and  in  the  country.  It  is 
plain,  however,  that  things  move  all  at  once;  that  house  and  town, 
room  and  sky,  dietetics  and  food,  are  the  same  essence  in  different 
quantities ;  that  the  large  is  the  continuation  of  the  little,  and  vice 
versa — the  little  the  pensioner  of  the  large;  in  short,  that  health 
has  two  ends — the  health  of  the  man,  and  the  health  of  the  people; 
which  must  be  treated  as  one  by  doctors  and  clergy,  because  they 
are  tied  into  one  by  the  Great  Physician. 

But  if  a  clean  skin  supposes  in  postscript  a  clean  habitation,  and 
this  a  cleanly  location;  and  if  the  skin  functions  preach  to  us  to 
cultivate  purity  in  every  field ;  they  also  enjoin  another  lesson,  of 
warmth  and  clothing.  The  skin,  as  we  have  observed,  is  the  gar- 
ment of  the  organs  (p.  278.)  It  has  wonderful  powers  of  keeping 
us  warm,  and  of  moderating  temperature  (p.  270).  Nakedly,  how- 
ever, it  cannot  stand  against  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  but  it 
beseeches  to  be  fenced  with  coats  of  other  skins,  derived  by  textile 
skill  from  plant,  worm,  and  fleecy  animal.  These  too  must  con- 
tinue the  skin,  have  pores  like  the  skin's,  and  be  clean  as  the  skin. 
The  duties  of  cleanliness  recur  in  the  clothes;  the  necessity  of 
warmth — in  a  word  other  clothes,  is  also  broadly  stated.    The  clothes 

30* 


354  HEALTH. 

must  be  clad  by  the  walls  of  a  comfortable  house,  and  the  hearth 
fire  artificially  elongate  the  brightness  which  the  life  fire  commences. 
Only  thus  can  warmth  become  solid.  For  it  is  here  as  in  space  and 
logic :  there  must  be  three  terms  or  dimensions;  viz.,  the  man  in  a 
whole  skin,  the  skin  in  a  decency  or  wholeness  of  garments,  and 
the  man  in  a  house  of  comfort,  in  order  to  make  the  substance  of 
a  citizen.  And  again  the  skin  of  the  circumjacent  earth  must  be 
washed  and  dressed,  as  the  double  of  our  own,  in  order  that  the 
reservoirs  of  outward  cleanness  may  be  filled;  and  lastly,  our  minds 
in  their  skins  (pp.  281 — 288)  must  be  clean  and  whole,  lest  erup- 
tions worse  than  can  come  from  without,  should  break  forth  from 
within.  Such  is  the  logic  of  duties,  easier  to  say  than  do,  which 
deduces  itself  by  sanitary  necessity  from  the  skin. 

The  lungs  cry  aloud  for  still  another  public  science;  and  as  they 
provide  us  with  air  and  motion,  they  claim  circumstances  around  us 
convenient  for  the  supply  of  these  two  demands.  Had  we  no  lungs, 
or  lungs  that  had  not  begun  to  breathe,  we  might  then,  so  far  as 
these  organs  are  concerned,  live  like  embryos,  closely  surrounded  by 
walls.  But  the  lungs  require  both  space  and  atmosphere.  These 
are  easily  procured  as  a  raw  material ;  we  need  only  walk  abroad  to 
breathe  freely  enough.  Other  agencies  however  intervene ;  the 
fields  are  cold  and  the  ground  is  damp,  and  we  need  shelter  as  much 
as  space,  and  warmth  as  much  as  air.  Thus  the  problem  arises ; 
for  the  world  is  too  big  and  too  windy  for  our  constant  lungs.  The 
first  size  and  air  which  we  have  to  manage  is  that  of  the  house. 
For  we  soon  find  that  we  cannot  live  in  nature,  but  only  in  art;  and 
are  constrained  to  carry  out  the  lungs  in  the  mansion  ;  to  raise  to 
the  second  power  the  air  which  they  contain,  and  to  have  an  airy 
room  without  us,  answering  to  and  supplying  the  air  chamber  within 
us.  So  too  with  the  free  motion  of  the  lungs ;  it  requires  to  be 
taken  up  and  continued  by  a  liberality  in  the  dress,  and  this,  by  a 
space  in  the  house,  which  admits  the  corresponding  free  motion  of 
the  body.  Our  apartments  must  be  large  enough  to  enable  us  to  do 
with  our  whole  frames  the  duties  by  which  we  live,  as  the  body  by 
its  chest  is  large  enough  for  the  play  of  its  organs  (pp.  100 — 104). 

Nay,  but  the  lungs  are  bigger  missionaries  still,  and  they  not 
only  supervise  chambers  and  chimneys,  and  love  ventilation,  but 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OF  THE  LUNGS.  355 

also  stand  on  the  Acropolis  of  all  towns,  and  preach  their  sermons 
there.  The  rooms  are  but  air-cells,  and  the  chimney  shafts  bron- 
chial twigs,  but  the  streets  are  the  branches,  and  the  main  streets 
the  trachea,  of  the  outward  social  lung.  Breathing  comes  down 
from  the  larger  into  the  lesser,  and  all  the  windpipes  depend  upon 
the  greatest  tube.  Hence  the  tyranny  of  this  organic  doctrine, 
which  detests  individual  smallness  when  public  size  is  concerned. 
It  is  plain  that  building  itself  has  its  diseases — its  phthisis  pulmo- 
nalis,  and  the  rest — which  ought  to  be  cured  by  direct  prescriptions 
from  the  state.  In  the  vastness  of  nature,  when  our  windpipes 
lead  thither,  impurity  dies  by  extreme  dilution;  our  sordes  perishes 
in  the  great  sea  and  the  fleckless  ether.  Nay,  take  dirt  far  enough 
away  from  its  generators,  and  it  becomes  the  pabulum  of  some  other 
set  of  natures,  as  the  noxious  breath  of  animals  is  transmuted  into 
life,  glossy  green,  for  the  plants.  We  have,  therefore,  to  make  the 
lungs  continuous  with  the  grand  atmosphere.  The  management  of 
streets  and  cities,*  and  the  cultivation  of  the  earth's  surface7  so  far 

*  The  providing  of  places  of  exercise,  where  pure  air  and  pleasant  sights  can 
be  found  in  or  around  large  towns,  has  naturally  claimed  attention.  London, 
Manchester,  Liverpool,  &c,  &c,  have  their  "  people's  parks,"  formed  either  by- 
private  or  public  munificence.  This  is  well ;  but  a  park,  at  best,  is  somewhat 
formal  and  valetudinarian.  It  does  not  invite  walking  so  much  as  strolling, 
which  is  a  very  different  tension  of  mind  and  muscle.  The  country  adjacent  to 
the  town  is  more  inspiring  generally  than  the  park.  We  cannot  but  think  that 
the  subject  of  footpaths  belongs  to  the  care  of  the  sanitary  men,  and  if  properly 
considered  would  open  new  energies  of  health  to  the  people.  Your  footpath  has 
a  refreshment  distinct  from  either  the  park  or  the  highway.  But  alas  !  the  foot- 
paths of  the  kingdom,  and  even  those  around  the  metropolis,  are  gradually  vanish- 
ing under  the  encroachments  of  the  proprietors.  We  propose  to  the  reformers 
to  have  a  statutory  registration  and  map  constructed  at  once  of  all  those  still  ex- 
tant ;  and  to  make  them  an  inalienable  possession  of  the  people,  which  each 
parish  shall  at  all  times  be  bound  to  claim  with  fines  on  the  mere  showing  of 
their  registration.  And  we  would  also  have  them  maintained,  within  a  given 
number  of  miles  of  the  towns,  in  a  passable  state  during  all  seasons,  winter  as 
well  as  summer.  This  would  be  easily  done  by  means  of  asphalt  laid  upon  a 
good  foundation ;  whereby  also  trespassing  would  be  discouraged.  We  claim 
no  new  right,  for  the  paths  belong  to  the  people;  nor  could  the  first  expense  of 
winning  them  from  the  seasons  be  considerable.  On  the  other  hand,  this  is  one 
of  the  most  ready  means  of  drawing  the  population  out  into  circumstances  of 
vigorous  exercise,  and  enjoyment  of  nature.  The  whole  neighborhood  of  towns 
is  a  public  park  ready  made,  if  only  the  paths  were  duly  administered.     We 


356  HEALTH. 

improves  the  expirations  of  all,  that  they  grow  lighter,  and  sail 
away  into  the  blue  places  where  impurity  is  at  a  constant  minimum. 
After  which,  no  doubt,  the  prayers  of  congregations  go  up  more 
readily  to  heaven,  because  they  have  no  longer  to  fight  a  passage 
through  a  putrid  roof  of  vapors  overhanging  the  church,  and  of 
which  the  steeple  is  the  pillar.  They  are  not  skunked  by  vested 
interests,  reminding  them  of  the  dead,  or  tied  like  coffins  to  their 
flowing  robes. 

But  the  psychical  office  of  the  lungs  is  the  true  and  the  major 
problem.  How  to  carry  out  every  breath  through  the  society,  so 
that  man  shall  inspire,  expire  and  conspire !  It  is  the  problem  of 
the  production  of  a  common  understanding  of  what  is  to  be  thought 
and  done — of  how  all  the  men  at  the  same  windlass  shall  heave  in 
tune  (pp.  121-122).  Truth  here  is  the  sky  in  which  all  breaths 
must  be  received  and  purified,  and  successive  aspirations  thither  are 
these  second  social  windpipes.  Moreover,  the  due  sectarizing  of 
mankind  is  required;  unanimity  or  one-breathingness  in  masses;  no 
skepticism  from  one  man  straitening  the  breasts  of  his  fellows;  for 
skepticism  is  social  asthma,  in  which  the  age  forgets  how  to  breathe. 
The  conspiring  of  the  efforts  of  many  to  one  end,  is  then  a  deside- 
ratum for  the  public  health,  enjoyment  or  integrity  of  the  lungs;  and 
when  it  has  place,  each  effort  pervades  a  society,  and  self-breathing 
is  the  most  attenuated  possible.  But  we  do  not  know  the  length  of 
the  public  vibration  of  the  lungs;  the  size  of  any  chest  when  it  has 
the  truth  of  Man  in  it;  or  the  delight  of  expanding  and  contracting 
for  a  commonweal.     Still,  this  is  the  problem. 

Our  exactions  rise  as  we  enter  more  deeply  into  the  human  frame, 
to  ask  it  what  it  wants  for  a  world.  We  are  almost  afraid  to  inter- 
rogate the  heart  upon  the  point;  if  we  open  its  mouth,  and  encourage 
it,  the  organ  may  prove  too  voluble  for  any  good  purpose.  But  re- 
membering that  the  brain  has  to  speak  after  it,  we  shall  allow  it  a 
voice,  trusting  to  correction  some  day  from  that  sequel. 

commit  the  subject  to  Prince  Albert,  as  worthy  of  his  patronage,  and  as  one 
that  would  add  another  lustre  to  that  diadem  of  national  services  which  he  is 
determined  to  wear.  The  people  will  never  forget  the  framer  of  an  Albert 
Charter,  if  it  make  the  scenes  of  our  fair  islands  accessible  to  the  poor  as  to 
the  rich. 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OF  THE  HEART.  357 

What  then  is  the  public  health  of  the  heart?  We  do  not  now 
speak  of  that  food  which  allows  us  to  make  blood,  further  than  to 
say,  that  the  public  health  of  the  stomach  lies  at  the  foundation  of 
the  rest,  and  that  bread  and  wine  require  to  be  heartily  conceded  by 
the  community  to  its  members,  on  the  principle  that  the  laborer  is 
worthy  of  his  hire.  It  does  our  hearts  good  to  eat  the  bread  of  toil, 
because  it  comes  charged  with  the  votes  of  God  and  man.  But  we 
now  canvass  the  heart  in  its  popular  and  living  sense,  in  which  there 
are  three  points  to  be  noticed,  all  bearing  upon  the  question  of  hap- 
piness, that  river  on  which  health  with  its  white  streamers  floats. 
A  man  is  healthy  in  this  sense,  1.  When  his  heart  is  in  his  work. 
2.  When  the  relations  of  the  heart  are  carried  out  for  him.  3.  When 
there  is  an  atmosphere  of  cordiality  about  him,  supplying  the  indi- 
vidual affections  from  the  social,  as  the  lungs  are  supplied  from  the 
air,  or  the  thought  of  the  writer  from  his  age.  These  three  things 
are  one  in  the  proposition,  that  the  man  shall  exist  con  amove.  It 
is  indeed  useless  to  treat  of  this  matter,  excepting  in  so  far  as  it 
may  show,  that  the  highest  relations  belong  to  the  human  frame, 
and  come  as  prophecies  out  of  its  study.  This  however  is  motive 
sufficient,  and  therefore  we  dare  go  on. 

I.  A  man's  heart  is  the  muscle  of  his  muscles,  the  lion  of  his 
strength.  But  muscles  work  together  by  balances  and  cooperations; 
in  a  dance,  for  instance,  there  is  a  marvelous  association  and  change 
of  powers  to  make  the  rhythm  which  answers  to  the  music  and  unity 
of  the  soul.  If  a  muscle  or  a  fibre  in  one  leg  be  out  of  tune,  it  will 
either  be  torn,  or  make  a  limp  of  the  dance.  And  when  the  main 
muscle  of  all  stands  out,  and  will  not  enter  the  quadrille,  as  in  ill- 
assorted  tasks,  the  fire  of  industry  expires,  and  legs  and  arms  move 
languidly  enough.  The  joint  of  joints  is  out  of  joint,  and  the  in- 
ferior limbs  are  but  crutches  on  which  painful  duty  carries  the 
cripple  about.  On  the  contrary,  in  happy  moments,  when  the  man 
and  his  work  are  at  one,  each  muscle  comes  parallel  with  the  heart, 
true  to  its  rank,  file  and  moment,  and  the  strokes  of  the  man  are 
constant  and  imaginative  as  his  heart  beats.  Heart  and  hand  then 
grasp  the  same  thing,  and  are  working  in  united  pulsations.  So 
much  for  the  first  requisite  of  carrying  out  the  bosom,  namely,  that 
the  man's  heart  shall  be  in  his  work. 


358  HEALTH. 

II.  The  happy  carrying  out  of  the  heart's  relations.  Home, 
friends,  children,  country,  are  the  immediate  world  of  the  heart; 
and  when  its  love  can  reckon  them  over  as  its  own,  its  every  beat 
against  the  breast  is  answered  from  without,  and  the  heart  eddies 
through  the  society  in  widening  concentric  circulations.  The  blood 
is  made  under  the  auspices  of  feelings  which  are  the  sweetest  en- 
joyments and  the  dearest  bonds,  and  the  body  is  tinctured  with  a 
stately  fire,  larger  than  its  individual  life.  On  the  contrary,  where 
there  is  no  issue  for  the  feelings,  or  no  proper  objects  to  love,  the 
breast  is  shut,  and  probably  the  senses  absorb  the  soul,  and  carry  it 
out  to  death  through  their  vicious  doors.  The  disappointments  of 
the  heart  may  either  break  it,  or  wither  up  countenance  and  frame, 
showing  the  picture  of  a  man  whose  blood  carries  no  live  motives  in 
its  current.  Moral  freedom  is  the  formula  of  this  kind  of  health, 
which  imports  that  the  walls  of  nature  and  circumstance — of  heart, 
ribs,  manners  and  laws,  shall  be  no  hindrances  to  the  structural  af- 
fections of  mankind.  We  have  got  now  to  labor  con  amove,  plus 
life  con  amove.     What  next? 

III.  The  supply  of  heartiness  to  the  heart  from  without.  Man 
is  a  being  who  lives  forever  upon  grounds,  forever  breathes  atmo- 
spheres, sees  suns,  is  gladdened  by  light  and  heat,  chafed  by  electri- 
cities, and  pulled  by  magnetisms.  No  wonder;  for  all  forms  are 
Pan-anthropal.  But  the  planet  which  is  ordered  to  accompany  him 
forever,  puts  off  its  exuviae  at  every  stage,  and  shows  a  fresh  core 
or  surface.  The  heart-man  does  not  live  on  mineral,  but  on  social 
grounds,  breathes  not  airs  but  thoughts,  is  warmed  by  blood  heat, 
or  aifection,  and  drawn  by  living  magnetism,  which  is  love.  And 
this  set  of  circumstances  is  a  true  universe  which  environs  us,  and 
whence  we  get  life  ah  extva,  as  we  get  nature  from  the  world.  Ac- 
cording to  the  constitution  then  of  the  social  world,  is  the  supply  of 
the  air,  sunshine  and  waters  of  our  existence,  and  we  can  no  more 
live  out  of  the  one  world  than  out  of  the  other.  As  we  have  all 
from  nature  being  nature's  subjects,  so  we  have  all  from  life  as  we 
are  the  subjects  of  life;  ourselves  alone  being  free,  a  germ  of  man- 
hood plunged  through  and  into  all  things,  to  grow  through,  and  to 
outgrow,  the  more  limited  planets.  When  man  is  all  in  all  in  the 
secondary  sense;  he  will  be  in  the  image  and  likeness  of  God,  who 


THE  SOCIAL  MAP.  359 

is  all  in  all  in  the  primary.  The  fitness  of  society  to  every  man,  is 
the  condition  of  this  last  demand  of  the  heart  for  health.  It  is  a 
mad  claim :  worse  perhaps  than  that  of  those  sanitary  reformers  who 
would  grasp  the  winds  and  wash  them  clean,  sweeten  Leeds  and 
purify  Sierra  Leone,  abolish  ague  or  typhus  from  the  rural  districts, 
or  drunkenness  from  all  classes.  We  believe  however  that  it  is 
only  the  same  problem  as  theirs,  but  stated  for  a  very  exacting 
organ,  the  heart. 

How  shall  any  of  this  be  secured?  If  we  cannot  manage  common 
nature,  and  lead  it  as  health  into  our  dwellings,  how  can  we  sweeten 
this  vast  and  terrible  life,  which  gives  and  takes  our  moral  diseases, 
and  whistles  its  comedies  through  our  ruined  affections;  which  ac- 
cepts the  pollutions  of  bad  hearts,  and  the  wail  of  broken  ones,  and 
mixes  them  in  its  columns  to  press  us  more  heavily  into  the  king- 
dom of  pain?  All  that  we  can  say  in  reply  is,  that  the  heart  must 
deserve  its  universe  before  it  gets  it;  the  present  world  is  the  fatal 
logic  of  its  diseases,  the  other,  which  we  have  described,  must  be  the 
logic  of  its  healths.  It  is.  an  untieable  knot,  excepting  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  a  religious  alteration  of  man,  or  a  Deus  intersit.  For  if 
already  the  community  depends  on  the  individual,  and  vice  vend, 
then  they  are  equated,  and  without  the  intervention  of  some  third 
power,  there  is  no  hope  of  improvement.  But  still,  under  the 
guidance  of  God,  both  the  man  and  the  society  step  out  of  the  fatal 
circle,  and  acquire  new  duties  again :  and  hence  we  cannot  doubt 
that  in  the  public  cause  the  community  must  be  worked  upon  by 
communal  means,  and  the  individual  by  private  means,  and  that  both 
these  will  be  reformatory,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  Providence. 

But  let  us  reassert  our  claim  to  be  map-makers,  and  not  travelers 
or  colonizers.  It  is  allowable  to  exhibit  an  organic  geography,  like 
the  physical,  though  on  a  glance  at  the  result,  it  is  seen  to  be  rather 
a  mighty  blank  of  desiderata  than  a  habitable  globe.  Here,  we  say, 
are  ten  thousand  square  leagues  on  which  no  grass  grows,  no  rain 
falls,  whence  no  rivers  issue,  where  the  oases  have  dangers  of  their 
own,  and  where  a  few  sparse  lions  haunt  with  horrible  hunger  the 
white  bones  of  old  camels  and  travelers.  Here  are  regions  where 
man's  greatest  works  and  his  smallest  pests,  fleas  and  pyramids, 
come  together.     Here  are  the  verdurous  shores  of  pestilence,  invit- 


360  HEALTH. 

ing  as  sin,  apples  of  Sodom  whose  rind  is  half  a  continent.  Here 
are  the  chilblains  of  the  frozen  zones,  which  cool  down  the  love  of 
the  sun  to  a  senile  moonlight  and  night-heat  for  the  poles  as  they 
creak  and  grind  in  their  ice.  Here  are  the  islands  where  elemental 
anger  begins,  and  infant  hurricanes  spin  their  tops.  So  much  for 
the  inhuman  map,  and  then  for  the  human.  Here  are  the  savages, 
and  here  the  barbarians;  here  man  is  in  the  fulness  of  his  present 
stature,  in  the  manufacturing  heaven  of  Manchester,  in  the  Arcady 
of  Ireland,  or  in  the  holy  cities  of  Paris  and  London.  If  the  map 
has  no  other  purpose,  it  shows  that  the  world  is  still  round,  vast  and 
habitable;  capable  of  intercommunication;  it  enlarges  our  ideas  of 
the  field  that  duty  has  before  it.  In  defect  of  maps  founded  on  the 
spherical  whole,  the  ancients  regarded  the  tropics  as  mystical  fiery 
lands  where  man  could  not  live;  and  in  defect  of  the  psychical  map, 
we  are  become  afraid,  not  without  a  show  of  prudence,  of  the  richest 
heats  of  the  heart,  which  we  regard  as  the  realm  of  phantasmagoria 
and  monsters.  Yet  if  tigers  and  snakes  abound  there,  men  also 
may  be  found;  moreover  the  sugars  and  spices  and  gold  of  both 
kinds,  moral  as  well  as  physical,  can  come  from  no  other  than  those 
sunniest  rings. 

But  in  the  meantime  we  are  sure  of  one  thing — that  man  must 
work  at  his  post,  and  not  desert  it,  if  he  is  to  find  health  for  his 
heart.  Want  fools  us,  unless  we  drive  it  through  our  daily  works. 
Present  circumstance  is  the  top  of  desert,  and  the  means  of  happi- 
ness ;  and  it  is  in  the  reformation  of  our  own  fields,  and  no  others, 
that  our  future  is  to  come.  The  statesman  does  not  emigrate  to 
carry  out  his  plans.  And  so,  in  like  manner,  it  is  not  new  but  old 
industry  that  is  to  become  attractive,  by  a  new  heart  given  by  hea- 
ven during  fair  toil :  it  is  not  altered  social  relations  that  will  make 
us  contented,  but  a  better  love  in  those  which  exist ;  and  it  is  not  a 
new  world  of  men  that  we  expect,  but  a  conversion  of  the  old  to  the 
types  of  the  commandments.  The  heart,  as  we  have  stated  it, 
prophesies  how  newly,  under  these  circumstances,  all  things  will 
appear. 

We  now  pass  on  to  the  public  health  of  the  brain,  which  has  two 
parts;  firstly,  the  mental  and  spiritual  culture  of  the  time,  and 
secondly,  the  national  education. 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OF  THE  BRAIN.  6bl 

With  respect  to  the  first  point,  or  culture,  it  embraces  the  pro- 
gressive state  of  religious  and  other  knowledge,  but  under  a  form 
established  and  recognized  by  government  for  the  time  being.  The 
beginning  of  it  is  an  established  church,  under  which  comes  an 
established  or  sanctioned  literature,  to  give  the  tone  to  the  secular 
thought  of  the  year.  Private  churches  and  literatures  may  exist  in 
any  numbers,  and  they  belong  to  the  department  of  the  freedom  or 
private  health  of  the  brain ;  but  over  them,  in  the  order  of  things, 
there  ought  to  be  public  encouragement  of  the  admitted  best  among 
them,  both  to  gain  a  temporary  rule  of  thinking,  and  to  stimulate 
the  individual  to  the  greatest  possible  degree.  A  government  loses 
its  chief  handle  when  it  ceases  to  dispense  the  prizes  of  thought ;  it 
cedes  the  courage  with  which  dissoluteness  of  mind  and  morals  is 
to  be  repressed,  when  it  no  longer  grasps  the  chief  literature  of  an 
age.  The  thing  to  be  guarded  against  is  the  supposition,  that  the 
highest  reach  of  thought  can  ever  come  under  patronage  at  the  time 
of  its  attainment;  that  is  not  the  point  sought;  it  is  the  best 
average  which  alone  any  state  machinery  can  be  expected  to  select. 
The  prizes  of  a  state  will  be  the  leading  points  by  which  the  next 
ages  decide  upon  its  own  condition;  and  progress  will  be  marked 
chiefly  by  the  successive  adoption  of  works  and  thoughts  which 
have  been  rejected,  but  are  at  length  received.  Nevertheless,  in 
this  department,  religion  must  ever  claim  the  first  place;  that  is  to 
say,  the  Christian  religion  through  the  Bible;  and  we  regard  it  as 
a  fundamental  to  take  no  thought  of  infidelities  in  the  council-cham- 
bers of  culture,  but  to  proceed  as  if  they  did  not  exist.  Let  them 
have  their  private  range,  according  to  the  freedom  of  the  age ;  still, 
they  can  enter  into  no  general  plan,  but  must  be  discouraged, 
though  not  violated,  by  the  state.  By  means  of  this  laudable 
supervision,  the  governments  of  free  nations  will  begin  to  operate 
upon  the  general  thought,  and  with  various  success,  according  to 
their  own  wisdom,  will  stimulate  knowledge,  both  natural  and 
divine.  Much,  indeed,  is  done  in  this  respect  already,  by  numerous 
corporations  addicted  to  special  walks  of  art  and  science ;  but  it 
remains  to  crown  the  heights  of  the  possibility  by  a  State  adoption 
of  what,  from  time  to  time,  seems  the  best. 

It  will  be  borne  in  mind  that  we  recognize  two  modes  in  all  these 
31 


362  HEALTH. 

fields,  the  private  and  the  public.  We  do  not  desire  that  the  one 
should  usurp  the  place  of  the  other,  or  that  freedom  should  be  lost 
by  any  direct  action  of  government  upon  matters  not  strictly 
required  by  the  commonwealth.  No  censorships  of  the  press  are 
needed :  the  laurel  given  from  above  is  a  more  effectual  means  of 
command  than  any  leg-locks  which  absolutism  has  devised.  And 
where  public  opinion  presses,  as  in  England,  the  average  best  men 
of  thought  and  art  will  be  the  prize-men  of  their  year  or  decade ; 
and  more  could  not  be  expected.  Those  who  are  before  the  age,  can 
wait  until  their  age  arrives. 

We  must,  however,  guard  against  the  supposition,  that  one 
establishment  will  have  anything  to  do  with  the  choice  of  another, 
or  that  the  clergy  of  the  church  will  nominate  the  clergy  of 
literature.  On  the  contrary,  all  these  public  organs  must  spring 
directly  from  the  head  of  the  commonwealth,  or  they  will  not 
possess  their  own  souls,  or  be  taken  as  they  are  found.  In  the 
contrariety  between  the  best  products  of  an  age,  lies  often  the 
balance  and  safety  of  the  state;  and  the  church  and  literature  will 
never  be  more  mutually  corrective  than  when  they  meet  with  the 
rights  of  an  equal  origin  around  the  person  of  the  supreme  magis- 
trate. Hence  in  treating  of  the  second  point,  or  national  educa- 
tion, we  are  in  nowise  tied  to  the  order  of  the  first,  or  culture ;  but 
we  begin  our  course  afresh  with  existing  possibilities.  It  is  as  in 
cultivating  an  estate,  we  offer  prizes  for  the  best  fruits,  vegetables 
and  stock ;  and  by  that  means,  we  hope  to  stimulate  all  the  labors 
of  the  various  tenants ;  but  when  we  come  to  feed  our  people,  we 
can  only  give  to  each  the  best  that  can  be  had ;  and  if  their 
stomachs  are  full  of  fancies  and  indigestions,  we  must  take  them  at 
their  word,  and  supply  them  with  such  food  as  they  desire.  The 
point  however  is,  that  the  state  is  bound  to  give  them  mental  food, 
and  this,  by  a  system,  not  of  coercions,  but  of  encouragements. 
And  if  like  Hindoo  castes,  they  cannot  eat  anything  that  has  been 
touched  by  those  of  another  sect,  this,  too,  must  be  respected ;  yet 
not  so  as  to  render  the  main  object  impossible.  The  first  thing  is 
to  make  the  knowledge  so  general  and  public,  that  no  complaint 
shall  arise  from  the  jealous  persons — that  the  waters  shall  not  come 
through  our  neighbors'  houses,  but  in  pipes  down  the  middle  of 


PUBLIC  HEALTH  OF  TEE  MUSCLES.  363 

the  streets.  The  people  will  then  feel  that  this  is  knowledge  direct 
from  the  reservoir  of  the  age,  and  that  if  it  is  not  good,  they  can- 
not complain  of  it.  We  therefore  regard  secular  education  as  the 
only  public  education  which  is  possible ;  and  the  public  school- 
masters consequently  as  a  clericy  of  which  the  Queen  is  the  head, 
and  which  must  emanate,  coequally  with  the  church  itself,  from  the 
progressive  State. 

But  the  great  brain-builder  is  action,  or  industry  directed  by 
knowledge ;  for  real  doctrine  is  the  brilliance  of  good  works.  The 
encouragement  of  action  is  therefore  a  department  of  public  health, 
and  indeed  the  chiefest  of  all.  This  occurs  by  the  stimulation  of 
examples,  great  pieces  of  art,  or  model  actions ;  and  the  prizes  of 
the  workers  have  no  proper  source,  lower  than  the  hand  which 
grasps  the  sceptre.  For  if  the  cradles  of  the  land  hold  the  dew 
which  is  ascending  into  private  existence,  the  throne,  or  mountain  of 
the  State,  is  the  altitude  whence  the  public  rivers  must  flow.  The 
clergy  of  industry,  which  is  Grod's  church  in  the  muscles,  in  England, 
in  1851,  receive  their  first  ordination.  It  is  fortunate  that  we  write 
in  a  year  when  the  throne  is  the  centre  of  the  arts  :  when  a  great 
prince,  faithful  to  the  height  where  Providence  sets  him,  dispenses 
the  provocatives  of  new  achievements  to  bless  the  nations  of  the 
earth;  when  private  selfishness  and  laissez  faire  have  been  brought 
to  their  knees,  and  old  inactions  have  yielded  under  a  royal  lash  of 
shame.  It  is  mere  desert  to  say,  that  Albert  is  the  victor  in  this 
social  battle,  and  that  the  standard  which  he  has  planted  in  his 
crystal  camp  will  not  be  plucked  down  again,  because  it  belongs  to 
the  nature  of  man  to  take  the  fire  of  his  industry  from  his  chiefs. 

The  conception  of  public  health  implies  the  reconstruction  of  all 
the  circumstances  with  which  the  organism  is  surrounded,  upon  the 
model  of  its  natural  and  spiritual  wants,  and  the  presumption  is, 
that  many  diseases  and  vices  will  die  which  circumstances,  and  not 
the  choice  of  individuals,  have  engendered.  This  result  itself,  how- 
ever, can  only  run  pari  passu  with  the  increase  of  private  virtue, 
and  hence,  as  we  said  before,  the  throne  to  which  the  whole  pro- 
blem perpetually  refers  itself,  is  the  regeneration  of  man.  After  any 
given  circumstantial  operation  has  been  effected,  an  intractable  mass 
of  evil  will  still  be  left,  which  requires  new  circumstances  of  cure, 


364  HEALTH. 

originated  by  new  physicians  of  good.  Thus  the  private  circulates 
into  the  public,  and  vice  versa,  and  to  dream  of  any  Owenite  reform, 
is  to  postulate  a  state  which  is  desirable,  but  by  that  means,  unat- 
tainable. The  "  best  possible  circumstances"  mean  the  best  possi- 
ble brain  and  heart,  sent  by  God  to  the  occasion.  But  again,  on 
the  other  hand,  without  new  circumstances  there  is  no  new  hope  for 
man. 

Were  it  worth  while  (which  it  is  not)  we  might  follow  out  the 
other  organs  in  their  exactions ;  and  group  the  production  of  man 
around  the  generative  parts ;  his  first  endowments  around  the 
organs  of  the  senses ;  and  so  forth.  But  enough  has  now  been 
said,  to  show  that  the  human  frame  is  a  natural  method  of  thought, 
even  in  the  social  and  political  spheres.  Indeed,  to  the  eye  of  faith 
it  is  a  great  sanitary  prophecy,  unfilled  by  the  mind,  as  the  world  is 
unfilled  by  the  race.  And  in  this  respect  also  it  is  an  urgence  of 
immortality.  For  health,  or  the  whole  inhabitation  of  man  in 
the  body  and  the  world,  is  an  expansion  and  a  deed  so  great, 
that  no  time  can  exhaust  it,  or  work  out  any  final  equation  of  the 
correspondence  :  the  fitting  may  go  on  for  ever,  not  for  the  race 
alone,  but  for  each  individual.  We  repeat  also  that  each  end  of  the 
chain  of  health  is  contagious  in  a  universal  sense ;  that  a  renewed 
man  and  society  are  not  only  consciously,  but  organically  also,  work- 
ing for  the  perfection  of  every  climate,  for  the  unfreezing  of  every 
ice-lock,  for  the  fertilization  of  every  soil ;  for  the  extinction  of  mon- 
sters and  the  increment  of  creations ;  and  for  the  birth  of  more 
men,  and  new  men,  who  come  as  cultivators  in  their  seasons.  The 
greatest  problems  (pp.  338,  239,  316)  are  not  intangible;  but  it  is 
ordained  that  our  little  frames  shall  give  nature  the  signals  of 
change,  and  ring  the  bells  of  new  eras. 

This  body  corporeal  then,  when  the  light  is  set  shining  through 
it,  projects  into  our  space  new  social  and  political  bodies,  one  after 
another ;  the  desiderata  of  health  call  about  them  the  planets  of 
health,  and  geography  and  astronomy  are  its  satellites.  It  is  none 
of  our  doing  that  the  subject  has  this  shape ',  the  sanitary  reformers 
have  to  answer  for  it ;  for  it  is  they  that  have  shown,  in  their  first 
days  of  existence,  that  man,  in  his  body  equally  as  in  his  brain,  is 
by  nature  a  factory  of  Utopias. 


TRADITIONAL  MEDICINE.  365 

Iii  the  meantime,  the  community  of  things  is  proved  by  evil,  if  not 
by  good ;  and  in  bringing  this  to  light,  the  pioneers  of  health  have 
already  great  merits.  They  have  shown  that  nothing  is  lost,  but 
that  disease  springs  from  neglected  social  duties.  The  map  of  dirti- 
ness is  also  the  map  of  disease ;  the  map  of  intemperance,  ditto ; 
the  map  of  pauperism,  ditto.  They  have  afforded  new  force  to  the 
truth,  that  all  things  are  in  the  effort  to  be  promoted  into  man. 
Swamps  and  ditches,  in  their  new  rank  and  honors,  are  fevers, 
choleras,  and  the  like.  If  we  have  not  dwelt  upon  these  subjects 
more  in  detail,  it  is  because  our  vocation  here  leads  us  to  illustrate 
organization,  as  a  means  of  opening  the  mind  itself  by  a  just  educa- 
tion. But  for  all  present  purposes,  we  concede  the  palm  of  useful- 
ness to  these  brave  sanitary  inquirers. 

So  much  for  the  curing  of  societies,  which  the  public  health-doc- 
tors have  undertaken  to  superintend  :  we  now  come  to  medicine  in 
the  more  ordinary  sense,  as  it  proffers  aid  to  individuals  in  their 
maladies,  according  to  certain  rules  and  methods,  new  and  old. 

The  earth  appears  to  be  netted  over  with  a  traditional  healing 
power ;  for  some  knowledge  of  herbs  and  simples  belongs  perhaps 
to  every  race,  to  enable  it  to  apply  the  products  of  the  soil  to  the 
cure  of  its  own  immediate  distresses.  As  each  land  has  its  national 
music,  and  in  some  countries  almost  every  dale  has  its  melodies,  so 
each  seems  also  to  have  its  national  medicine,  derived  from  imme- 
morial times.  How  the  places  came  by  the  knowledge  is  not  often 
asked.  We  cannot  but  think  that  in  this  fact  also,  we  have  traces 
of  an  ancient  state  of  man  of  which  history  has  not  brought  us  the 
records.  If  in  the  earliest  national  myths  there  be  evidence  of  a 
condition  in  which  the  faculties  and  imaginations  were  more  full 
of  tact  and  grasp  than  now;  if  the  first  bards  loved,  and  were 
loved  by,  nature,  with  a  fondling  intimacy  to  which  we  are  strangers, 
there  is  reason  to  suppose  that  this  intimacy  extended  to  every 
walk  of  life,  and  that  there  was  a  primitive  shine  of  knowledge 
anticipating  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  in  which  medicine,  and  the 
skill  of  herbs,  would  partake.  If  newness  of  powers  is  still  so 
great  a  gift,  that  infancy  is  a  delight  through  the  livelong  day 
because  the  world  is  fresh  and  sense  unworn,  what  must  have  been 

31* 


3GQ  HEALTH. 

the  newness  of  those  first  senses  which  opened  upon  the  morning  of 
time  ?  And  if  delight  is  the  bed  of  genius,  what  must  have  been 
the  brightness  of  the  insights  that  went  penetrating  forth  from  the 
eyes  of  the  children  of  happiness  in  the  beginning?  The  word  hap- 
piness, in  its  human  propriety,  contains  it  all.  Such  races  would 
happen  on  the  needful  laws  of  the  world,  and  its  harmonies  with 
their  frames,  and  when  the  first  stings  of  sin  tore  them  with  their 
first  physical  pangs,  they  would  aim  at  cunning  evasions  of  con- 
sequences by  arts  and  herbs  with  which  they  had  been  familiar 
under  other  auspices.  The  speed  of  their  reasons  would  be  like  reve- 
lations compared  to  the  slowness  of  ours.  And  thus  if  we  choose 
to  call  the  mythologies,  revelations,  we  must  also  call  medicine  by 
the  same  name,  so  far  as  it  has  come  down  from  the  original  stem. 
The  thought  of  harmony  corroborates  this  view.  For  primeval  man 
was  in  harmony  with  his  circumstances,  and  his  mind  had  a  fair 
start :  he  had  his  own  native  version  of  physiologies,  botanies  and 
the  rest,  though  unlike  ours;  and  when  he  swerved  to  our  tree  of 
knowledge,  his  child-genius,  like  all  natural  things,  could  only  desert 
him  by  degrees.  Doubtless  it  hovered  over  him,  until  it  created  for 
him  the  heads  of  that  observation  which  is  still  traditive  with  man. 
There  is  another  version  of  this,  but  it  is  hardly  worth  our  notice : 
criticism,  as  the  art  of  picking  things  to  pieces,  is  its  parent.  For 
they  say  that  man  was  at  first  a  savage  (or  according  to  learned  Ves- 
tiges, an  ape),  who  by  dint  of  a  toilette  of  some  thousands  of  years 
before  the  mirror  of  philosophy,  has  "  titivated"  himself  into  civiliza- 
tion. This  contradicts  experience.  The  savages*  are  not  infantile 
but  senile  races,  with  no  loins  left;  they  tend  not  to  pro-creation, 
but  extinction.  They  have  no  power  of  imitating  the  models  of 
their  betters,  but  where  the  white  man  comes  they  die  out.  If  the 
Creator  had  planted  the  earth  with  such,  he  would  have  been  like  a 
Colonial  Secretary  peopling  a  new  continent  with  scum.  Pretty 
babes  these  to  have  appeared  so  soon  after  the  morning  stars  con- 
gratulatively  sung  together  and  the  sons  of  God  shouted  for  joy  ! 

*  We  do  not  reckon  the  negro  races  as  savages ;  they  are  evidently  still  infan- 
tine, capable  of  propagation  and  education:  nay,  capable  of  passive  conquest,  by 
the  very  destinies  which  have  enslaved  them,  and  which  are  insuring  to  their 
posterity  many  spacious  kingdoms  on  the  lace  of  the  earth. 


TRADITIONAL  MEDICINE.  367 

The  tradition  of  such  a  crew  of  darkness  must  have  been  a  Botany 
Bay  and  Norfolk  Island  reeking  through  all  myth  and  song :  the 
arts  and  sciences  must  have  smelt  like  dogs  and  monkeys  from  these 
kennels.  Let  alone  Eden — I  do  not  see  where  Egypt  and  Babylon 
could  have  come  from,  if  skulking  aborigines,  and  hide-dried  canni- 
bals eating  their  own  heads  off,  had  been  our  Adams.  Long  before 
this,  not  a  baby  would  have  been  left  to  hope,  but  the  human  form, 
like  a  boat  launched  with  a  hole  in  its  bottom,  would  have  foundered 
on  the  brink  of  the  year  1.  It  is  according  to  all  analogies,  to  stick 
to  the  paradise  of  Genesis,  which  gives  a  divine  and  redundant  youth 
to  man  where  he  so  wanted  it,  that  otherwise  no  human  race  could 
have  grown  up.  And  if  we  know  not  how  to  reconcile  every  petty 
circumstance  to  this  piece  of  God's  common  sense,  let  us  know  that 
it  is  only  because  our  winter  cannot  comprehend  the  spring  in  which 
His  creations  blossom  :  and  let  us  wait  until  the  second  human  spring 
enables  us  better  to  commune  with  the  first.  We  can  easily  receive 
any  science,  without  letting  it  meddle  with  the  divine  proprieties. 

As  then  it  is  so  much  easier  to  fall  than  to  rise,  we  have  first  to 
chronicle  the  descent  of  medicine  from  old  times,  when  the  race,  like 
a  woman's  heart,  had  feeling  and  insight  full,  and  when  also  the 
schools  of  healing  originated,  in  the  persons  of  those  who  in  the  well- 
distributed  humanity  had  greater  gifts  in  this  kind  than  their  fellows. 
These  were  the  gods,  from  which  medicine  was  said  to  be  descended, 
and  whose  powers  might  well  appear  to  be  miraculous  to  their  suc- 
cessors, who  had  lost  the  insight  upon  which  the  tutum,  citum  and 
jucundum  of  healing  depends. 

But  we  do  not  profess  to  sketch  the  history  of  this  interesting 
subject;  it  is  sufficient  to  know,  that  there  are  two  great  classes  of 
healers,  namely,  1.  The  medical  schools,  and  their  disciples ;  and, 
2.  The  people  itself  as  a  depositary  of  mere  traditive  medicine. 
With  respect  to  the  schools,  they  also  contain  two  elements;  in  the 
first  place,  their  own  traditional  lore,  the  history  of  medicine  gradu- 
ally purifying  itself  towards  modern  science ;  and  in  the  second,  the 
cumulative  experience  and  induction  of  that  science  itself.  As  for 
the  first  of  these  elements,  it  has  grown  weaker  and  weaker  with  each 
generation,  so  that  one  might  say  that  each  age  of  doctors  never  had 
a  grandfather ;  the  family  likeness  vanishes  more  and  more  out  of 


868  HEALTH. 

the  race.  Orthodox  medicine  in  this  century  is  a  substitution  and 
not  a  continuation  of  the  science  of  the  last:  it  has  no  right  to  be 
offended  with  upstarts,  for  it  is  not  more  than  fifty  years  since  itself 
arose  out  of  the  crucibles  and  dissecting  rooms.  In  a  word,  it  has 
many  experiments,  but  almost  no  traditions.  Each  fresh  version  of 
our  Pharmacopoeia  carefully  weeds  out  old  simples,  and  fills  their 
places  with  chemicals,  exterminating  this  and  that  to  make  room  for 
the  last  new  compounds. 

With  regard  to  the  second,  or  scientific  clement,  we  do  not  find 
that  it  has  placed  physic  upon  any  basis  but  that  of  experimenta- 
tion; and  that  not  integral,  but  chemical  experimentation.  If  the 
body  were  a  pure  acid,  or  alkali,  housing  nothing  but  affinities,  it 
could  hardly  be  more  industriously  tested  by  all  the  new  products 
of  the  laboratory,  to  see  what  they  will  do  with  it.  And  when  the 
perilous  experiments  have  been  made,  no  law  comes  out  of  them, 
excepting  that  mankind,  "  having  suffered  many  things  of  many  phy- 
sicians, and  spent  all,  and  being  rather  worse  than  better,"  is  wearied 
in  the  end  and  worn  out  in  the  process.  This  is  to  be  expected, 
where  the  most  acrid  substances  which  art  can  wring  from  nature, 
are  put  in  large  quantities  into  the  living  frame,  on  nothing  more 
than  an  experimental  hope.  It  is  furthermore  to  be  expected  from 
the  course  which  physiology  has  taken  in  the  rearing  and  breeding 
of  medical  men.  For  it  teaches  them  to  think  chemically  of  man 
himself;  to  imagine  him  not  as  a  human  being  with  a  spirit  inside, 
but  as  a  plaster-statue  of  nucleated  cells,  whose  life  is  manifested 
in  composition  and  decomposition.  There  can  be  no  common  sense 
in  treatment,  where  thought  wanders  into  this  chaos  of  petty  prisons : 
indeed  one  feels  that  if  man  is  such  a  compost,  blue  pills  and  black 
draughts  are  fit  stuff,  not  only  to  medicine,  but  to  feed  him.  In  the 
meantime,  however,  what  becomes  of  the  treatment  of  disease  ? 

The  consequences  of  this  system,  in  which  nearly  all  but  the 
chemical  side  is  neglected,  have  been  seen  by  its  orthodox  adherents, 
and  if  we  remember  aright  there  is  even  a  school  calling  itself 
"  Young  Physic,"  which  recognizes  the  probability  that  medicine 
does  more  harm  than  good,  and  that  the  secret  of  the  superior  suc- 
cess of  parties  to  be  mentioned  presently,  depends  upon  their  good 
fortune  in  "doing  nothing."    This  protestantism  of  theirs  demands  a 


THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  OF  DISEASE.  369 

few  words  from  us,  for  really  the  thought  occurs,  Whether,  experi- 
mentally, we  know  how  soon  diseases  would  cure  themselves,  if  they 
were  left  to  nature  ?  No  observations  have  been  made  upon  sick 
people  visited  by  the  physician,  who  has  made  up  his  mind  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  them,  but  only  to  use  his  gray  eyes. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  the  natural 
history  of  disease ;  it  has  none  but  a  human  history — either  benig- 
nant or  terrible.  Man  as  he  lies  stretched  on  his  pallet,  is  still  both 
a  soul  and  a  body;  he  does  not  grow,  or  show,  like  insensate  wood 
or  bark,  in  any  direction.  If  you  are  there  to  heal  him,  he  takes 
good  out  of  your  frame,  sympathy  and  skill,  even  though  you  pour 
bad  out  of  your  bottles ;  he  feels  the  warmth  of  a  brother,  present  as 
the  envoy  of  one  of  the  arts  of  heaven.  And  if  you  give  placebos, 
you  are  still  acting  upon  him  by  the  inevitable  medication  of  your 
person.  But  if  he  finds  you  at  his  bedside,  to  watch  him  for  cold 
experiments'  sake,  that  his  life,  death,  or  throes  may  figure  in  your 
statistics,  do  not  suppose  that  you  are  innocuous,  for  you  are  a  potent 
poisonous  drug,  calling  forth  sorrow,  despair,  fear,  and  other  de- 
stroyers, and  aggravating  the  sensibilities  of  his  organs.  The  best 
feeling  that  you  can  cause  under  these  circumstances,  is  indignation, 
which,  as  it  rouses  the  life,  may  be  remedial  in  your  teeth.  But 
there  is  an  absurdity  involved  in  the  question,  What  would  be  the 
course  of  disease  if  left  to  itself  ? — because  it  never  can  be  left  to 
itself  without  a  breach  of  manhood )  and  even  if  it  occurred  on  a 
desert  island,  the  mind  of  the  sufferer  would  play  an  important  part 
in  determining  the  illness  towards  either  death  or  recovery.  The 
brutes  know  better  than  to  resign  themselves  to  doing  nothing  under 
natural  afflictions :  they  lick  their  sores,  and  seek  their  herbs ;  and 
the  domestic  animals  bring  their  sorrows  of  this  kind  to  man,  and 
assume  a  kind  of  patience  under  the  treatment  that  he  enjoins.  The 
record  of  cases  requiring  care,  and  yet  to  which  no  care  was  given, 
would  constitute,  so  far  as  it  could  exist,  the  unnatural  and  inhuman 
history  of  disease. 

We  therefore  reckon  that  any  medical  practice  which  has  had  a 
few  precedents  to  correct  it,  is  better  than  that  profession  of  nothing, 
to  which  some  of  our  brethren  have  directed  their  hopes.  Yet  it  is 
equally  true  that  many  cases  would  have  recovered  better  by  simple 


370  HEALTH. 

watching,  and  the  application  of  a  few  obvious  means  mostly  sug- 
gested by  the  patient's  feelings,  than  where  a  large  apparatus  of 
drugs  has  been  employed.  Nevertheless,  in  every  social  state,  the 
physician,  in  some  form  or  other,  is  indispensable,  whether  he  be 
called  priest,  magician,  friend,  mother,  or  by  whatever  name  that 
has  authority  over  our  mind  and  matter. 

But  after  all  there  is  great  necessity  to  do  nothing  relatively  to 
what  has  been  done ;  for  we  have  been  on  a  wrong  track,  and  must 
change  it ;  and  by  a  common  law  of  our  nature,  the  new  will  seem 
nothing  to  the  old,  so  long  as  the  old  has  new  eyes  to  see  it. 
Buried,  as  the  existing  medicine  is,  among  fuming  acids,  sharp 
stimuli,  chemicals  and  caustics,  it  cannot  believe  in  the  power  of 
gentleness,  or  the  first  smallness  of  good  causes.  Widely  extended 
though  it  be,  we  must  pass  it  by ;  but  not  without  the  recognition, 
that  it  is  the  chaotic  mother  of  children  fairer  than  itself,  and  on 
their  account  deserves  to  be  respected.  But  now  that  these  have 
come,  it  only  keeps  them  out  of  their  fortunes  by  lingering  too  long 
above  ground,  and  cumbering  the  earth  with  its  age  and  infirmities. 

The  first  considerable  child  which  it  has  born,,  is  that  science 
which  Hahnemann  delivered — we  mean  Homceopathy,  or  the 
treatment  of  "likes  by  likes,"  which  was  a  legitimate  fruit  of  the 
previous  drug  medication.  For  in  the  whole,  the  idea  of  medicine 
itself  is  homoeopathic ;  it  does  not  give  health-producing  agents  to 
engender  health,  but  poisons  which  would  issue  in  disease  :  it  is, 
therefore,  the  general  application  of  the  law,  by  which  like  is  to  be 
cured  by  like.  It  is  in  the  particulars  that  medicine  does  not  re- 
cognize the  application  of  the  Hahnemannian  formula  ;  and  thence, 
whenever  it  comes  into  details,  it  is  in  contradiction  with  its  own 
idea.  It  is  homoeopathic  in  theory,  and  allopathic  in  application — 
a  house  divided  against  itself.  And  in  the  matter  of  doses,  it  is 
subject  to  the  like  remarks ;  for  no  one  gives  physic  in  the  same 
quantities  as  food,  but  a  few  grains  of  calomel,  or  a  few  fractions  of 
a  grain  of  arsenic,  are  considered  sufficient  even  by  "  heroic  prac- 
titioners" of  the  old  school.  Why  is  this,  but  that  there  is  a 
working  in  these  poisons,  which  takes  them  out  of  the  category  of 
the  ordinary  materials  which  we  put  into  our  mouths?  And  if  a 
grain  will  produce   results  upon  a  man  of  fourteen  stone  weight, 


HOMOEOPATHY.  371 

where  is  the  absurdity  to  end,  without  experiment,  which  may 
choose  to  show  that  the  millionth  or  decillionth  of  a  grain  will 
have  even  better  results  ?  I  marvel  how  men  who  lift  fourteen 
stone  by  the  equipoise  of  a  skillful  grain,  can  sneer  at  other  men, 
who  do  the  same  nice  balance  by  incalculably  lesser  weights.  For 
it  is  evident  that  all  medicine  is  on  this  railway  of  smallness,  and 
is  more  perfect  and  harmless  for  every  fcesh  terminus  that  it  reaches. 
If  the  allopathists  were  accustomed  to  give  calomel  porridges,  their 
wrath  against  small  doses  would  be  consistent ;  but  when  they  are 
themselves  reduced  to  grains,  why  should  they  cavil  at  other  healers, 
who,  by  experiment,  have  found  out  the  value  of  grains  of  grains. 

It  was  Hahnemann  to  whom  all  the  world  is  indebted  for  the 
scientific  deepening  of  medicine  in  both  these  fields.  He,  first  of 
men,  saw  that  if  poison  in  gcnere  is  given  to  disease  in  genere, 
the  aim  will  be  more  neatly  hit  if  poison  in  particulari  be  admin- 
istered to  disease  in  particulari.  This  conception  of  his,  involved 
the  working  of  a  very  peculiar  "  science  of  correspondences"  be- 
tween the  effects  of  drugs  and  the  symptoms  of  diseases,  so  as  to 
discover  exactly  what  poisons,  and  what  order  of  them,  would  an- 
swer to  the  symptoms  and  flux  of  special  maladies.  In  the  ideal 
of  this  great  sportsman,  each  shot  in  the  gun  was  cognizant  of  its 
own  part  of  the  prey,  and  the  line  of  sight  was  the  science  which 
brought  poison  level  with  disease.  May  we  not  extend  the  meta- 
phor, and  say,  that  man  in  sickness  is  like  two  men,  each  wrestling 
with  the  other ;  and  that  the  physician  comes  to  shoot  the  worser 
man  to  death,  without  a  grain  of  the  charge  touching  the  better  : 
in  this  case  the  homoeopathic  dose  will  not  hit  the  struggling  health, 
because  the  shot  can  wound  nothing  but  disease ;  whereas  the 
allopathic  bullet,  having  no  scientific  speciality  in  its  projection, 
generally  riddles  both  the  men,  and  leaves  mere  death,  or  its  ante- 
cedents on  the  field. 

The  matter  of  doses  depends  upon  the  fineness  of  the  aim.  In 
everything  there  is  npunctum  saliens  so  small,  that  if  we  could  find 
it  out,  a  pin's  point  would  cover  it  as  with  a  sky.  What  is  the 
meaning  of  that  invisible  world  which  is  especially  versed  about 
organization,  if  there  be  not  forces  and  substances  whose  minute- 
ness excludes  them  from  our  vision  ?     We  have  not  to  batter  the 


6VL  HEALTH. 

human  body  to  pieces  in  order  to  destroy  it,  but  an  artistic  prick — 
a  bare  bodkin — under  the  fifth  rib,  lets  out  the  life  entire.  Nay, 
had  we  neater  skill  of  deadliness,  a  word  would  do  it.  The  sum  of 
force  brought  to  bear  depends  upon  precision,  and  a  single  shot  true 
to  its  aim,  or  at  most  a  succession  of  a  few  shots,  would  terminate 
any  battle  that  ever  was  fought,  by  picking  off  the  chiefs.  If  our 
gunnery  be  unscientific,  the  two  armies  must  pound  each  other, 
until  chance  produces  the  effects  of  science,  by  hitting  the  leaders ; 
and  in  this  case  a  prodigious  expenditure  of  ammunition  may  be 
requisite ;  but  when  the  balls  are  charmed,  a  handful  will  finish  a 
war.  It  is  not  fair  to  count  weight  of  metal  when  science  is  on 
the  one  side,  and  brute  stuff  on  the  other  ;  or  to  suppose  that  there 
is  any  parallel  of  well- skilled  smallness  with  ignorance  of  the  most 
portentous  size.  The  allopathic  school  is  therefore  wrong  in  sup- 
posing that  our  "  littles"  are  the  fractions  of  their  "  mickles ;"  the 
exactness  of  aim,  in  giving  the  former  a  new  direction,  takes  them 
out  of  all  comparison  with  the  unwieldy  stones  which  the  orthodox 
throw  from  their  catapults. 

But  again,  there  is  another  consideration.  Fact  shows  that  the 
attenuation  of  medicines  may  go  on  to  such  a  point,  and  yet  their 
curative  properties  be  preserved,  nay,  heightened,  that  we  are 
obliged  to  desert  the  hypothesis  of  their  material  action,  and  to 
presume  that  they  take  rank  as  dynamical  things.  A  drop  of 
aconite  may  be  put  into  a  glass  of  spirit,  a  drop  of  this  latter  into 
another  glass  of  spirit,  and  so  on,  to  the  hundredth  or  the  thou- 
sandth time,  and  still  the  aconite-property  shall  be  available  for  cure. 
Here  then  we  enter  another  field,  and  deal  with  the  spirits  of  things, 
which  are  their  potential  forms,  gradually  refining  massy  drugs, 
until  they  are  likened  to  those  sightless  agents  which  we  know  to 
be  the  roots  of  nature,  and  feel  as  the  most  powerful  in  ourselves. 
How  can  such  delicate  monitors  be  looked  at  from  the  old  point  of 
view,  or  assimilated  to  the  violence  that  is  exercised  by  material- 
istic physic  ?  If  the  latter  would  stir  the  man,  it  does  it  by  as 
much  main  force  as  it  dares  to  use;  whereas  the  former  moves  him 
by  a  word,  through  the  affinities  and  likings  of  his  organization. * 

*  There  is  something  unfair  in  the  manner  in  which  the  public  criticises  cases 
that  do  not  recover  under  homoeopathic  treatment.     None  oi  our  systems  will 


HOMCEOPATHY.  373 

It  would  be  curious  to  consider  how  it  is  that  medicinal  substances 
so  attenuated  are  still  true  to  themselves,  and  exert  their  properties 
upon  the  body ;  for  the  fact  is  beyond  question.  Although  we  can- 
not resolve  this  enigma,  yet  there  are  analogies  which  somewhat 
domesticate  it  in  our  understandings.  In  the  body,  for  instance,  a 
grain  of  any  substance,  or  a  spot  of  any  feeling,  is  participatively 
present  throughout;  a  dose  of  calomel  influences  the  frame,  and  if 
we  may  use  the  expression,  calomelizes  it ;  the  wound  inflicted  by  a 
needle  point  gives  a  sensation  to  the  man,  or  hurts  the  great  body 
itself.  It  is  not  that  the  agent  is  materially  everywhere ;  but  the 
patient  is  set  in  the  attitude  of  the  effect,  and  feels  it  universally. 
We  may  therfore  look  on  organisms  as  universes  that  vibrate  from 
one  end  to  the  other  with  every  force  that  assails  them  ;  and  thus  in 
their  own  way  become  the  magnitudes  and  propagations  of  the  force. 
This  is  plainly  shown  in  contagions,  which  engrafted  upon  the  smallest 
part  of  the  body  at  first,  in  the  next  place  run  morbidly  through  it, 
and  ferment  the  frame  into  a  new  but  greater  vesicle  of  a  morbid 
kind ;  after  which  the  social  propagation  begins,  and  a  continent 
may  be  infected  from  that  first  grain  of  disease,  thus  shaken  and 
dynamized  in  human  body  after  human  body,  and  not  diminished 
but  aggravated  by  its  propagation.  In  this  we  have  a  clear  image 
of  the  dynamization  of  medicinal  powers,  which  received  in  any  ve- 
hicle (e.  g.,  alcohol),  and  properly  vibrated,  seem  to  convert  it  into 
their  own  likeness,  just  as  if  it  were  an  organism  capable  of  trans- 
mission of  effects  or  community  of  feelings.  But  let  our  explana- 
tion stand  for  no  more  than  it  is  worth,  and  be  considered  as  a  word 

cure  every  disorder.  Nor  is  to  be  expected  that  an  art  which  is  in  its  infancy, 
can  do  more  than  greatly  surpass  in  safety  and  virtue  the  Hippocratic  medicine 
of  2,000  years'  standing.  Yet,  whenever  a  death  occurs  under  homoeopathy,  the 
neighborhood  argues  and  acts  as  though  homoeopathy  had  invented  death,  which 
was  a  phenomenon  unknown  until  Hahnemann  brought  it  from  the  infernal  re- 
gions !  Why  !  the  bills  of  mortality  since  Hippocrates  are  the  bills  of  allopathy. 
And  in  most  cases,  let  the  worst  that  can  occur,  it  is  no  worse,  and  no  more, 
than  happens  daily  under  that  practice.  But  if  the  patient  dies  under  allopathy, 
he  dies  by  precedent,  and  there  is  no  responsibility  ;  if  homoeopathy  is  at  his  bed- 
side, he  departs  unsanctioned,  and  the  survivors  have  to  answer  for  him  to 
public  opinion.  This  must  be  borne  until  the  battle  is  further  fought,  and  those 
who  are  not  prepared  to  endure  it  had  better  not  dabble  in  homoeopathy. 

32 


374  HEALTH. 

to  those  only  who  like  to  see,  not  merely  that  the  fact  is  so,  but  that 
besides  being  true,  it  is  also  not  improbable. 

Whatever  be  the  hypothesis  of  the  properties  of  drugs  in  in- 
finitesimal doses,  the  fact  remains  the  same,  and  Hahnemann  has 
the  credit  of  testing  pharmaceutical  substances  with  a  rigor  of  which 
his  predecessors  had  no  conception.  The  vagueness  of  medical 
practice  disgusted  him,  offending  intellect  and  conscience  alike,  and 
for  a  time  he  retired  from  a  profession  in  which  he  had  so  little 
faith.  His  own  discovery — that  like  is  to  be  cured  by  like — then 
came  forth,  and  by  an  easy  process  the  whole  strangeness  of  homoeo- 
pathy developed  itself.  The  diminution  of  the  doses  took  place  by 
degrees  along  a  road  of  linked  facts,  in  which  there  was  little  room 
for  fallacy  :  there  is  no  case  in  inductive  science  in  which  experi- 
ment was  more  minutely  perfect.  Cures  followed,  and  have  ever 
since  followed,  on  a  scale  to  which  the  orthodox  medicine  was  a 
stranger :  the  statistics  of  homoeopathy,  taken  in  Government  hos- 
pitals, and  under  military  strictness,  show  a  lessened,  mortality  as 
compared  with  the  tables  of  its  rival.  And  wherever  it  is  fairly 
practiced,  the  same  average  results  occur ;  so  that  in  spite  of  much 
opposition,  it  spreads  from  the  healed  to  the  sick,  and  the  rumor  of 
its  beneficence  is  stronger  with  a  sensible  public  than  the  diatribes 
of  a  very  active  and  influential  profession  arrayed  against  it. 

The  practical  blessings  of  the  New  Medicine  are  dependent,  as 
we  conceive,  firstly  upon  the  science  of  correspondence,  which  bring- 
ing poison  and  disease  together  with  a  completer  fitness,  poisons 
the  disease,  and  kills  it ;  and  secondly,  upon  the  smallness  of  the 
doses,  or  we  would  rather  say,  the  use  of  the  spirit  and  not  the  body 
of  the  drugs;  which  use  gains  its  cause  by  no  destruction  of  our 
tissues,  but  by  giving  the  body  an  attitude  that  neutralizes  the  dis- 
ease, and  then  itself  ceases  after  a  certain  duration  of  effects.  Drugs 
given  in  the  latter  way  are  more  like  ideas  than  material  bodies,  and 
when  they  have  served  their  purpose,  they  either  vanish  of  them- 
selves, or  may  be  countermanded  by  their  appropriate  antidotes. 

I  suppose  it  is  impossible  to  overrate  the  consequences  of  Hahne- 
mann's life.  Even  the  negative  results  are  vast  for  our  future  well- 
being.  How  different,  for  example,  from  the  pale  faces  that  we 
note  in  every  street,  will  be  those  which  belong  some  day  to  un- 


HOM(EOPATHY.  375 

drugged  generations !  What  vigor  may  we  not  expect  from  the 
later  posterities  of  those  who  have  not  hurt  mind  and  body  by  sup- 
ping on  material  poisons  ?  How  much  better  those  childhoods  will 
be,  whose  parents  and  grandparents  have  neither  been  bled  nor  sali- 
vated secundum  artem,  but  who  have  kept  their  own  current  in  their 
veins,  and  given  it  entire  to  their  race  ?  And  on  the  positive  side, 
what  another  gain  it  will  be,  when  hereditary  maladies  begin  to  be 
displaced,  and  the  crust  that  hides  man  drops  down  from  his  skin  by 
degrees  !  What  virtues  may  we  not  expect,  when  with  all  higher 
helps  to  good,  the  body  itself  seconds  the  monitions  of  the  soul ! 
What  talents  also,  and  what  happiness,  when  the  frame  is  set  in 
parallelism  with  the  order  of  things  !  For  though  we  do  not  attri- 
ute  everything  to  body,  yet  a  sound  body  has  consequences  which 
make  it  needful  to  speculate  upon  it  in  all  views  that  concern  the 
advancement  of  our  species. 

On  the  theoretical  side,  Hahnemann  has  approximated  drug-heal- 
ing to  the  pure  sciences ;  and  by  instituting  experiments  on  the 
healthy  body,  he  has  expanded  the  properties  of  each  medicine  to  a 
human  form  of  symptoms,  naturally,  by  that  form,  applicable  to 
man.  I  think  of  medicines  now  as  curative  personalities,  who  take 
our  shape  upon  them  to  battle  in  us  with  our  ills.  The  testing  of 
their  characters  is  also  capable  of  being  carried  to  the  utmost  ex- 
actitude; for  drugs  may  be  "proved"  upon  many  persons  in  differ- 
ent places  and  at  different  times,  and  their  symptoms  curtailed,  sifted, 
and  if  we  may  use  the  phrase,  pared  and  sculptured  down,  until  only 
their  essential  and  nude  form  is  left.  When  we  get  these  heroes  on 
their  feet,  they,  and  not  their  discoverers,  will  be  the  great  men  of 
an  ever-young  physic. 

It  is  hard  to  imagine  how  any  profession  can  disregard  the  service 
that  Hahnemann  has  begun,  in  the  constitution  of  a  rational  phar- 
macopoeia. When  we  look  to  what  was  known  of  medicinal  pro- 
perties before  his  time,  and  then  compare  it  with  the  state  in  which 
he  left  the  subject,  the  difference  is  like  that  between  light  and 
darkness.  No  one  had  imagined  that  each  drug  ran  through  the 
frame,  and  evoked  fresh  symptoms  from  organ  after  organ  ;  nor  in- 
deed without  the  similia  similibus  curantur  would  any  application 
come  from  the  fact.     But  it  is  an  attestation  of  that  formula,  that 


376  HEALTH. 

it  leads  to  a  knowledge  of  drugs  infinitely  special  and  diversified 
compared  with  the  science  that  preceded  it. 

The  number  of  superstitions  also  that  Hahnemann  slew,  entitles 
him  to  the  gratitude  of  all  those  who  dislike  to  be  frightened  by- 
unreal  shapes  which  a  strong  man  can  walk  through.  He  made 
the  true  experiment  of  doing  relatively  nothing  in  medicine  (p.  369), 
and  found  that  it  was  abundantly  successful  and  humane.  Purga- 
tives were  one  nasty  superstition  which  he  banished.  Bleeding  was 
another  of  these  vampires.  Long  before  we  met  with  homoeopathy, 
we  wondered  why  we  bled  our  patients  in  inflammations,  according 
to  the  common  practice,  when  yet  the  attack  struck  in  a  moment, 
and  there  was  no  more  blood  in  the  body  after  than  before  it  oc- 
curred ;  and  we  thought  that  it  was  but  a  wrong  distribution  which 
caused  this  rapid  assault  upon  life,  and  not  a  plethora  of  blood ;  and 
that  skill  would  lie,  not  in  butchering  the  disease,  but  in  restoring 
the  harmony  which  was  lost.  We  had  seen  some  of  our  best  be- 
loved friends  sacrificed  to  the  murderous  lancet,  and  our's  was  the 
hand  which  let  out  their  life — though  under  the  legalizing  sanction 
of  the  most  accredited  physicians.  Would  that  we  could  recall  the 
dead;  but  they  sleep  well!  Who  has  not  had  similar  experiences? 
And  who,  in  the  long  run,  will  not  reproach  himself,  if  he  does  not 
accede  in  an  inquiring  spirit  to  the  New  Medicine,  which  has  availed 
to  exorcise  this  host  of  killing  superstitions? 

Among  the  other  benefits  of  homoeopathy,  we  reckon  this  also — 
that  it  tends  to  make  us  think  more  worthily  of  our  bodies.  I  defy 
any  man  to  be  a  physiologist  who  is  in  the  habit  of  bleeding,  purg- 
ing, and  poisoning  the  human  frame.  The  body  abhors  him,  and 
dies  rather  than  tell  him  its  secrets.  What  idea  can  a  man  have  of 
life,  if  he  is  accustomed  to  take  blood,  which  is  the  soul's  house,  in 
pint  basins  from  the  frame ;  and  to  think  that  he  is  doing  nothing 
extraordinary?  What  notion  of  living  cause  and  effect  can  any  one 
entertain,  if  he  deems  that  such  an  abstraction  of  our  essences  can 
ever  be  recovered  from  so  long  as  we  are  on  this  side  the  grave  ? 
What  imagination  can  be  felt  of  the  music  of  man,  by  one  who  or- 
ders purgative  pills  pro  re  nata  to  play  upon  our  intestine  strings, 
in  the  delusion  that  their  operation  is  temporary,  and  confined  to 
the  first  effects.     I  see  in  the  whole  physiological  science  the  large 


HOMOEOPATHY.  377 

written  evidence  of  these  stupid  sanguinary  methods ;  the  doctrine 
has  followed  the  works  with  a  vengeance,  and  the  science  has  been 
purged  and  bled  away  until  nothing  is  left  but  chemical  dust  on  the 
one  hand,  or  germ-cells  on  the  other.  This  has  gone  so  far  that  it 
is  doubtful  now,  whether  the  medical  profession  has  any  further 
power  of  pursuing  human  physiology ;  doubtful  whether  that  great 
knowledge  must  not  pass  to  the  laity  and  the  gentiles,  and  become 
a  non-medical  science.  Certainly,  the  hands  that  have  least  been 
crimsoned  in  the  bowels  of  the  living  man,  seem  by  nature  most  fit 
to  receive  his  tender  and  amazing  secrets. 

Another  department  also  is  that  of  mental  effects,  in  which 
homoeopathy  stands  preeminent.  If  each  drug  evokes  symptoms 
throughout  the  body,  it  also  affects  the  mind  wherever  it  touches  the 
organs;  and  hence  the  new  pharmacopoeia  groups  around  it  mental 
and  moral  states  so  far  as  they  depend  upon  the  body.  In  this  re- 
spect homoeopathy  opens  a  field  which  was  untouched  before,  and  in- 
cludes the  healing  of  moods,  minds  and  tempers  under  the  action  of 
medicines.  How  valuable  this  is  as  an  adjunct  of  education,  will 
suggest  itself  at  once  to  all  fathers  and  mothers;  and  how  new  a 
power  it  is,  those  best  know  who  have  become  converts  to  homoe- 
opathy after  practicing  the  old  system  of  medicine. 

It  is,  however,  in  the  eradication  of  chronic  diseases  and  heredi- 
tary taints,  that  homoeopathy  promises  perhaps  the  greatest  of  its 
benefits.  On  this  subject  the  views  of  Hahnemann  deserve  the  at- 
tention of  philanthropists  of  every  degree,  whilst  at  the  same  time 
they  are  highly  interesting  to  the  medical  philosopher.  Nay,  there 
is  a  touch  of  the  sublime  about  them,  such  as  only  comes  into  the 
scientific  spirit  in  its  happiest  moods.  As  Hahnemann  teaches  us 
of  the  trine  contagions  that  have  come  down  with  man  from  early 
days,  we  seem  to  hear  echoes  of  every  mythos  that  has  struck  us 
with  significance  before,  from  the  Parsee  dualism  of  Ahriman  and 
Ormuzd,  to  the  blue-white  Hela  of  Scandinavian  faith;  nay  also  we 
are  let  into  the  understrata  of  that  evil  which  throws  out  sulphurs 
and  geysers  in  the  human  and  inhuman  worlds  :  and  we  cease  to 
wonder  that  no  cure  comes,  when  the  pit  of  disease  is  so  deep.  What 
a  chasteness  of  genius  too  in  Hahnemann,  that  instead  of  swerving 
to  speculation,  he  forced  these  conceptions  through  the  outlets  of 

32* 


378  HEALTH. 

his  method  of  cure,  and  thought  nothing  sacred  enough  for  his  at- 
tention, but  the  recovery  of  the  body  from  its  ancient  pests.  If  there 
be  such  a  thing  as  bodily  disease  distinct  from  psychical,  then  he 
was  right  in  his  devotion,  and  is  rewarded  already  in  contributing  to 
the  whole  sanity  of  his  kind. 

In  a  strictly  medical  point  of  view  the  Hahnemannian  theory  of 
chronic  disease  comports  with  principles  which  are  beginning  to 
be  admitted  on  all  hands.  The  multiplicity  of  diseases  and  epidem- 
ics is  suspected  to  be  the  mask  of  a  unity  of  which  so-called  distinct 
maladies  are  but  symptoms  :  just  as  on  a  large  range,  different  lan- 
guages are  but  dialects  of  some  common  stem.  Whether  Hahne- 
mann has  hit  the  central  forms  of  malady  of  which  the  rest  are  the 
procession,  it  would  be  presumptuous  in  us  to  say;  but  at  least  he 
has  put  us  upon  the  search,  and  indicated  that  the  confirmation  of 
what  he  has  deemed,  or  the  suggestion  of  something  truer,  will 
grow,  as  his  own  views  did,  out  of  the  bosom  of  practical  healing. 
Moreover,  his  science  of  medicine  has  the  advantage  of  springing 
from  both  the  roots  of  the  past  (p.  367),  for  as  we  said  before,  it 
germinated  from  the  scholastic  side ;  and  as  it  grew,  it  took  in,  and 
retains,  the  traditional  medicine  which  is  found  among  the  people. 
In  fact,  the  homoeopathic  law  gives  specific  justification  of  the  popu- 
lar usage  of  many  herbs  and  simples,  which  accordingly  now  reap- 
pear as  parts  of  a  scientific  system,  affording  new  evidence  of  the 
probability  that  should  be  acceded  to  practices  which  are  immemo- 
rial and  of  world-wide  acceptation.  And  in  another  respect  it  unites 
with  the  instincts  of  animals,  as  well  as  with  the  pharmacy  of  the 
"  old  wives,"  in  prescribing  simples  and  not  compounds,  in  order 
that  pure  operations  may  ensue,  and  causation  or  cure  touch  the 
ailment  with  a  finger-end  of  tact,  and  not  with  a  rude  indiscrimi- 
nate hand  of  confusions.  The  homoeopathic  law  also  accounts  for 
the  cures  that  have  taken  place  under  the  other  practice,  and  shows 
that  they  are  owing  to  a  latency  of  homoeopathy  in  the  common 
sense  of  its  predecessor. 

We  are  indeed  convinced  that  the  law  of  treating  like  with  like, 
is  the  one  intellectual  formula  to  which  the  healing  art  has  attained. 
Nevertheless,  we  do  not  assert  that  at  a  given  time  any  art  is  pre- 
pared to  stake  itself  completely  upon  practice  dictated  by  science. 


HOMOEOPATHY.  879 

The  genius  of  man  walks  willingly  with  positive  knowledge,  but 
there  come  times  and  eases,  when  he  falls  back  upon  the  unknown 
chaos,  and  trusts  for  instinctive  revelations  there.  We  would  not 
therefore  cut  connection  with  allopathy;  because  there  will  be  a 
certain  number  of  instances  where  there  is  no  knowledge,  and  where 
chaos  is  a  resource.  When  these  arise,  it  is  a  comfort  that  they  can 
be  committed  to  that  respectable  body,  the  old  medical  profession, 
which  to  do  it  justice,  has  its  own  stars  in  its  own  night.  We  think 
however  that  it  is  a  mistake  to  call  its  art,  allopathy  ;  it  should  be 
termed  chaopatliy,  because  it  is  without  a  formula,  and  welters  down 
time  by  that  set  of  falls  which  are  vulgarly  known  as  good  and  bad 
luck. 

Homoeopathy  requires  many  changes,  and  new  brains  of  the  Hah- 
nemannian  order,  before  it  will  do  itself  justice  according  to  the 
conception  of  its  founder.  I  know  no  set  of  problems  which  would 
better  repay  severe  thought  founded  upon  observation,  than  the  pro- 
perties of  the  drugs  quoad  the  human  body.  It  is  not  routine 
practice,  but  penetrating  investigation,  which  will  introduce  the  next 
highly  necessary  improvements.  New  views  of  the  human  frame 
are  requisite  before  the  science  of  pathogenesy  can  attain  to  any 
degree  of  perfection.  Among  the  first  of  these,  we  reckon  that 
natural  pathogenesis  which  the  powers  intrinsic  to  the  body  daily 
exercise  upon  it:  viz.,  the  powers  of  the  mind,  soul,  and  the  inner 
man.  By  eliciting  this,  we  shall  get  at  the  leading  idea  of  patho- 
genesis, and  also  obtain  rules  for  the  succession  of  symptoms  and 
states  as  welling  from  a  single  fountain  head.  Otherwise,  unless 
our  eyes  be  thus  armed  by  these  greater  knowledges,  the  various 
symptoms  that  drugs  evoke  in  different  parts  of  the  frame,  will  seem 
to  have  no  connection  with  each  other,  and  the  memory  will  be 
unable  to  retain  them,  at  the  same  time  that  they  will  lie  as  so  much 
incoherent  dust  in  the  way  of  the  intellectual  powers.  The  subject 
is  so  important  that  we  must  take  leave  to  illustrate  our  remarks  in 
a  few  words. 

If  the  effects  of  medicines  should  be  decided  upon  the  healthy 
body,  it  will  be  conceded,  that  the  knowledge  of  the  healthy  body 
itself  is  the  canvas  upon  which  our  medicinal  science  must  be  drawn. 
But  the  body  is  tenanted  by  various  lives,  each  of  which  pervades 


380  HEALTH. 

it;  and  hence  these  also  come  to  be  the  subjects  of  any  physiological 
investigation  which  seeks  wholeness  as  its  aim.  We  may  liken  the 
powers  of  man  to  drugs  that  produce  symptoms  all  through  his  frame. 
These  symptoms  are  the  basis  of  the  science  of  health,  and  of  the 
corresponding  art  of  healing.  But  who  has  ever  studied  so  much 
as  one  of  them  ?  Where  is  the  natural  pathogenesy  which  is  the 
foundation  of  the  morbid  pathogenesy  in  the  body  itself?  It  is  not 
yet  extant  in  science.  But  we  must  strive  after  it,  or  verily  we  do 
not  know  the  human  subject  to  whom  medicine  is  to  be  applied. 
There  is  a  brilliant  mine  to  be  worked  here,  and  one  which  in  giving 
a  deeper  basis  to  our  art,  will  also  constitute  a  knowledge  of  psych- 
ology such  as  the  world  will  be  glad  to  receive. 

In  our  Chapter  on  the  Heart  we  took  occasion  to  trace  the  passion 
of  Fear  through  some  of  its  pathogenetic  states.  Let  us  explain 
our  present  meaning  by  following  some  of  the  symptoms  of  Grief 
in  the  same  way.  First,  what  is  the  index-symptom  here,  of  which 
the  bodily  state  is  the  sequence?  Weeping  from  the  eyes  is  the 
finger  that  points  to  all  the  other  signs :  the  falling  tear  is  the  be- 
ginning of  the  propositions  of  grief.  The  voice  wails,  and  the  sen- 
tences fall  out  of  the  mouth  through  plaintive  lowering  cadences 
which  end  in  sobs.  The  head  is  depressed,  and  the  hair  weeps  over 
the  face.  The  chin  falls,  and  the  lips  melt  as  if  they  were  big  drops 
of  sorrow;  the  saliva  also  trickles  forth  as  though  the  mouth  cried. 
In  children  the  mouth  does  cry,  and  sobs,  like  tears  of  tone,  roll 
heavily  forth;  the  lungs  weep  out  both  words  and  breaths.  The 
blood  and  excretions  are  wept  away,  and  pallor  and  loss  of  bodily 
spirit  are  manifest;  and  in  long  grief,  the  body  itself  pines  or  falls 
away.  The  arms  hang  at  the  side,  the  knees  totter  as  though  they 
would  trickle  down,  and  the  frame  droops  with  willowy  sadness.  In 
extreme  effects,  no  tears  flow,  but  the  spirit  weeps  itself  out;  just 
as  in  the  last  cases  of  fear,  the  man  runs  away  not  outwardly  but 
inwardly  (p.  192).  Now  the  points  to  be  noted  in  this  slight  out- 
line of  the  pathogenesy  of  fear,  are  twofold :  in  the  first  place,  the 
mind,  the  body  and  the  organs  are  each  affected  in  their  own  manner 
by  the  emotion  :  in  the  second  place,  the  cardinal  phenomenon  gives 
the  cue  to  the  other  signs,  and  we  find  that  in  grief  the  whole  man 
weeps.     We  have,  therefore,  the  best  known  term  of  all  to  interpret 


HOMCEOPATHY.  381 

for  us  the  kingdom  of  grief.  The  like  is  attainable  with  regard  to 
the  bodily  train  that  accompanies  every  other  passion,  and  in  each 
case  the  head  sign  will  run  through  the  entire  phenomena  that  be- 
long to  it.  This  is  what  we  mean  by  the  pathogenesy  of  the  inner 
man.* 

Now  apply  this  to  the  action  of  drugs,  and  observe  that  it  de- 
mands two  conditions,  only  one  of  which  is  at  present  fulfilled.  For 
not  only  are  all  the  symptoms  to  be  recorded  and  grouped  in  their 
places  round  the  organs,  but  a  head  symptom  must  be  found  which 
is  their  common  denominator;  a  principal  fact  from  which  the  re- 
mainder flow.  When  this  is  done,  you  will  have  in  your  mind  a 
portrait  of  the  drug,  as  the  painter  has  with  him  an  instinctive 
limning  of  the  faces  of  the  intellects  and  passions ;  and  you  will 
then  become  acquainted  with  your  pharmacy,  be  enabled  to  divine 
symptoms  by  insight  without  cumbersome  catalogues  of  them  im- 
possible to  remember,  and  to  apply  them  with  something  like  genius 
to  the  moving  facts  of  each  case  as  it  arises.  Until  this  be  accom- 
plished the  heart  of  our  drugs  is  unrevealed  to  us.  First,  however, 
we  repeat,  it  will  be  better  to  begin  with  the  study  of  the  healthy 
body  and  mind,  and  with  the  effects  of  healthy  agents,  not  only 
because  this  is  the  preesuppositiim  of  a  knowledge  of  diseased  mani- 
festations, but  because  the  mind's  actions  are  so  much  more  intelli- 
gible than  those  of  drugs,  and  the  easiest  lesson  should  be  learned 
first.  Afterwards,  when  we  have  accustomed  ourselves  to  the  new 
mode  of  working,  we  may  approach  the  drug  problems  with  a  little 
more  chance  of  success. 

By  this  means  we  hope  to  see  that  difficulty  of  practice  which  is 
the  chief  opprobrium  of  homoeopathy  removed,  and  the  handles  of 
the  instruments  of  cure  placed  in  the  hands  of  medical  men.  This 
is  the  more  imperative  upon  us,  because  our  morbid  states  of  mind 
have  the  effects  of  true  poisons  upon  the  body,  and  must  be  regarded 
as  spiritual  drugs,  each  having  a  pathological  history  of  its  own. 
Can  we  doubt,  for  example,  if  ignalia  or  any  other  medicament  be 

=#  Perhaps  our  meaning  will  be  best  explained,  if  we  say  that  we  desiderate 
a  new  Jahr  to  give  the  symptoms  of  health  instead  of  those  of  disease  ;  in  other 
words,  a  pathogenetic  psychology  and  physiology,  which  shall  stand  to  homoeo- 
pathy, as  the  existing  chaotic  physiology  stands  to  the  old  system  of  medicine. 


382  HEALTH. 

homoeopathic  to  the  effects  of  grief,  that  were  the  pathogenesy  of 
grief  itself  worked  out  by  a  law  of  order,  the  application  of  the 
drugs  allied  to  the  state,  would  become  infinitely  more  precise  than 
at  present?  What  form  the  science  will  take  under  this  develop- 
ment, we  cannot  prophecy;  but  that  it  will  hold  more  light  and 
more  readiness,  we  very  much  foresee. 

Here  we  close  our  remarks  on  homoeopathy,  as  the  basis  of  the 
medical  sciences.  It  is  the  intestine  system  of  medicine  in  its  finest 
form,  and  cures  as  it  were  by  touching  the  beginning  of  the  body  in 
taste  and  the  mouth.  The  law,  however,  is  not  confined  to  drugs, 
but  has  an  application  we  do  not  know  how  extensive.  Some 
glimpses  of  it  will  still  be  seen  as  we  proceed  to  speak  of  other 
organa  of  the  healing  art. 

We  have  said  nothing  on  the  vexed  question  of  the  doses,  for  very 
little  is  known  about  it.  The  effect  of  a  millionth  differs  so  little 
from  that  of  a  trillion th,  that  in  the  existing  state  of  the  science 
we  cannot  make  any  available  distinction.  Fine  points  are  the  last 
to  be  settled  in  any  department.  In  a  contagious  disease,  which 
spreads  from  a  single  person  to  a  town,  we  know  almost  nothing  of 
the  differences  that  are  caused  by  the  transmission,  or  of  any  altered 
manner  in  which  the  last  occurring  cases  radiate  their  effects  upon 
susceptible  people.  Nor  in  infecting  new  portions  of  spirit  with  a 
drug,  have  we  the  wit  to  see  what  the  several  dilutions*  signify.  It 
is  sufficient  for  this  time,  that  acute  and  temporary  disorders  are 
most  amenable  to  the  dilutions  that  are  nearest  to  the  matter  of  the 
drug,  while  chronic  maladies  are  chiefly  touched  by  those  high  "  po- 
tencies" in  which  only  the  spirit  seems  to  be  present. 

Very  different  from  homoeopathy,  or  the  cure  by  specific  drugs, 
is  Hydropathy,  or  the  cure  by  water  as  a  general  element.  The 
former  appears  to  contend  with  bodily  diseases  in  their  material 
strongholds,  searching  them,  and  forcing  them  to  quit  their  poison- 
ous grasp  of  the  organization.  The  latter,  or  hydropathy,  is  not 
medicinal  but  hygienic,  and  operates  by  stimulating  or  depressing 
the  natural  processes  of  the  system.  Fluid,  either  in  the  shape  of 
vapor  or  water,  exists  everywhere  in  the  active  organism;  whatever 

*  In  preference  to  dilutions  of  drugs,  we  would  rather  term  the  higher  po- 
tencies, transmissions. 


HYDROPATHY.  383 

part  was  dry,  would  be  also  dead.  And  temperature  accompanies 
the  frame  in  the  fluids  as  vehicles.  Now  the  water  cure  is  allied  to 
the  natural  moisture  everywhere,  and  applies  itself  specially  to  the 
universal  skin-system  (p.  271).  Whatever  relief  can  be  obtained 
for  suffering,  by  means  of  the  perspirations,  is  carried  to  the  great- 
est degree  by  those  parts  of  the  water  treatment  which  so  powerfully 
favor  perspiration.  Whatever  benefit  can  come  from  the  tone  which 
cold  water  so  instantaneously  arouses,  is  heightened  in  the  plunge 
bath,  the  wet  sheet,  and  the  douche.  Whatever  calmness  and  cool- 
ness can  do  for  the  irritations  and  heats  of  the  body,  is  brought  about 
in  an  extraordinary  degree  by  the  cold  quietude  of  the  sitz  bath. 
In  short,  the  water  cure  is  the  exaggeration  of  the  hygienic  pro- 
cesses, until  they  come  to  be  powerful  agents  for  changing  morbid 
conditions.  There  is  nothing  like  the  action  of  specific  medicines 
in  this  method  of  healing;  for  though  the  actions  and  reactions  of 
the  body  are  quickened  and  strengthened,  they  remain  true  to  them- 
selves, and  assume  no  toxicological  phase.  Water  is  not  a  poison 
any  more  than  alcohol  (pp.  159,  160),  though  both  of  them  stimu- 
late and  depress  to  an  alarming  degree,  if  their  use  is  abused. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  enter  the  lists  in  defence  of  the  water 
cure :  the  public  has  derived  from  it  so  much  benefit,  and  withal 
has  acquired  so  much  knowledge  of  the  subject,  and  caution  in  the 
knowledge,  that  the  art  and  science  of  Preissnitz  may  be  considered 
as  established  things.  The  water  cure  takes  a  capital  stand  among 
the  bases  of  a  common-sense  hygiene,  and  while  fountains  bubble 
and  rivers  run,  it  will  not  be  abandoned  by  those  who  love  the 
welfare  of  their  bodies. 

Though  hydropathy  be  not  medical  in  the  drug  sense,  yet  it  is 
impossible  to  say  without  experiment  what  number  of  diseases  it 
can  cure.  We  have  no  certain  discrimination  of  those  maladies 
which  arise  from  stoppage  of  the  natural  processes,  or  from  over  or 
under  stimulation  of  the  frame.  And  although  every  loss  of  the 
balance  of  health  depends  upon  defect  of  the  whole  organism, 
which  is  too  weak  to  protect  itself  against  circumstances,  yet  the 
symptoms  of  that  loss  may  be  combated  by  circumstantial  means. 
Cure  is  another  thing,  if  by  cure  be  meant  that  restoration  which 
provides  against  relapse  :  such  cures  are  unhappily  rare.     But  for 


384  HEALTH. 

the  curation  of  present  ills,  the  water  treatment  is  often  singularly 
prompt  and  apt;  and  as  we  said  just  now,  experience  alone  can  show 
how  wide,  or  how  limited,  its  powers  in  this  kind  are. 

We  incline  to  consider  energizing  as  the  formula  under  which  its 
effects  come.  Of  course  we  are  now  speaking  of  the  cold  water 
cure;  for  the  formula  of  the  hot  is  the  very  reverse.  It  is  true 
that  the  application  of  cold  produces  by  reaction,  glow  and  heat, 
but  this  is  an  energetic  glow,  and  its  perspirations  break  out  with 
force.  On  the  other  hand,  the  warm  bath  leaves  a  sense  of  cold- 
ness, and  its  sweats  are  languid  and  profuse;  the  chilliness  that  is 
in  them  proves  that  they  trickle  out  of  the  weakness  of  the  contain- 
ing parts.  The  energizing  of  the  cold  treatment  proves  itself  in 
two  ways — firstly,  by  bracing  the  body  itself;  and  secondly,  by 
bracing,  that  is  to  say,  increasing  in  power  and  quantity,  the  secre- 
tions. Both  these  effects  depend  upon  reaction ;  whence,  if  the 
energies  be  not  excited,  depression  is  the  result ;  and^  of  this  latter 
state,  which  is  desirable  where  excitement  already  exists,  the  water- 
cure  doctors  have  made  great  use.  The  drinking  of  cold  water  in 
considerable  quantities,  operates  upon  the  internal  organs  somewhat 
as  douches  and  wet  sheets  upon  the  skin;  but  with  this  difference, 
that  the  viscera  are  more  constant  in  their  reactions,  and  under  the 
direction  of  life,  are  more  able  to  recover  their  tone  than  the  skin. 

The  water  cure  is  invaluable  for  those  persons  who  are  the  slaves 
of  long  habits  of  ease  and  indulgence,  and  whose  constitutions  are 
breaking  down  from  the  sheer  repetition  of  these  imprudent  courses. 
They  go  to  Malvern,  and  the  axe  is  laid  to  the  root  of  their  tree  of 
evils.  Their  impossibilities  are  made  possible  for  them  by  the 
rigorous  physician,  who  endures  no  remonstrances  in  his  house.  In 
an  hour  they  throw  down  the  accumulated  baggage  of  years,  and 
determine  to  do  penance  for  having  carried  it  so  long.  Early 
hours,  long  walks,  long-forgotten  beauties  of  nature,  reacquaintance 
with  the  crystal  springs  whose  Naiads  had  been  neglected  for  "  old 
port,"  sweet  sleep  hours  before  midnight,  and  the  sense  that  they 
are  clean  human  beings,  or  on  the  way  to  such — all  these  means 
carry  health  to  the  men  who  are  jaded  with  business  or  pleasure, 
but  not  yet  struck  for  death.  The  cold  water  is  the  central  morti- 
fication of  the  flesh;  it  has  caught  them  buried  in  care  or  luxu- 


HYDROPATHY.  385 

riousness,  and  like  the  "  cold  pig"  which  their  schoolfellows  once 
emptied  over  them  in  their  boyish  beds,  it  makes  them  start  to 
their  feet,  and  touch  the  ground  of  realities  once  more.  We  attri- 
bute much  of  the  water  power  to  the  frigid  morality  which  it  in- 
culcates; to  the  shock  which  it  gives  to  the  dreaming  man,  and  his 
lazy  organs.  For  it  tells  him  very  plainly  that  there  is  to  be  no 
comfort  in  bed  or  board,  but  that  warmth  must  be  moral  and  come 
out  of  work. 

But  if  this  be  so,  then  the  capacity  which  the  body  possesses,  to 
be  shocked  into  its  functions,  will  depend  upon  the  resource  of  morale 
in  the  patient,  or,  in  a  word,  upon  the  capabilities  of  his  faith.  All 
that  I  have  seen  or  read  of  the  water  cure,  strengthens  me  in  this 
conviction.  It  appears  to  me,  that  humanly  speaking,  there  is  a 
certain  amount  of  life  and  reaction  in  the  upper  parts  of  every  man, 
which  may  be  drawn  upon  as  occasion  requires.  How  much  there 
is,  we  have  probably  but  little  idea;  for  each  means  of  calling  it 
down — each  syphon  that  we  put  into  the  reservoir — only  runs  its 
own  kind  of  life.  The  quantity  of  this  fluid  spirit  is  therefore 
practically  limited  enough,  though  perchance  other  means  might 
open  a  new  vein  when  the  old  sources  dry.  But  so  it  is  with  the 
water  cure ;  it  taps  the  life  and  morale  in  its  own  direction,  and 
obtains  wonderful  supplies.  "We  think  it  is  not  well  to  exhaust 
these,  or  to  allow  them  to  flow  until  their  lees  mix  with  the  current; 
for  when  they  are  once  gone,  there  is  no  more  to  be  had  from  that 
tube  of  arts.  It  must  not,  therefore,  be  supposed,  that  the  second 
and  third  resorts  to  the  water  cure  will  have  the  like  success  with 
the  first;  the  life  which  was  obedient  then,  has  been  partially  or 
perhaps  wholly  spent.  And  if  the  penances  are  kept  up,  they  become 
severe  macerations;  the  faculties  are  not  roused  but  chilled,  and  the 
lamp  which  might  have  lasted  for  a  quiet  while,  is  besieged  by  cold 
to  death.  In  one  word,  the  limits  of  the  water  cure  are  the  limits 
of  personal  vigor,  which,  after  a  certain  point,  is  wasted  in  the 
struggle  of  this  treatment  for  health. 

It  is  necessary  to  bear  this  in  mind  when  we  are  dealing  with  an 
agent  whose  effects  are  so  powerful  and  immediate.  However,  our 
reading  on  this  subject  convinces  us  that  the  prudences  which  be- 
long to  the  water  cure  are  well  attended  to  by  its  best  advocates  in 
33 


386  HEALTH. 

this  country;  and  what  we  have  said  applies  rather  to  the  public, 
who  require  to  know  that  this  treatment,  so  often  valuable,  is 
limited  in  its  results ;  and  that  in  diseases  proceeding  from  irregular 
habits,  the  first  cure  is  likely  to  be  more  satisfactory  and  innocent 
than  any  subsequent  one.  As  moral  imbecility  grows,  from  what- 
ever cause,  the  physical  benefits  of  the  water  cure  will  become  less 
and  less. 

The  system  of  Preissnitz  belongs  to  a  group  of  sciences  which 
include  the  whole  of  the  four  elements  of  the  ancients,  and  apply 
them  to  the  healing  art.  Earth,  air,  fire  and  water  are  the  basis  of 
outward  hygiene,  and  are  all  represented  in  some  sort  under  the 
notion  of  climate.  The  acclimation  of  patients  resembles  the  water 
cure  in  many  respects ;  only  that  it  produces  the  desired  elevations 
and  depressions  of  the  body  by  influences  which  are  less  visible, 
though  not  less  striking  in  their  effects.  To  be  bathed  in  the  light 
and  heat  of  a  new  sun,  and  washed  with  the  winds  of  a  fresh  sky ; 
to  feel  the  steam  of  an  unwonted  surface  of  earth,  and  the  tension 
of  a  different  magnetism  and  electricity  to  that  to  which  we  are 
accustomed,  are  important  elements  in  the  recovery  of  health, 
particularly  where  moral  circumstances  also  are  favorable.  The  hy- 
gienic map  of  countries,  gathered,  as  it  might  be,  from  the  physical 
character  of  the  inhabitants,  or  from  susceptible  temperaments  on 
the  spot,  would  be  a  guide  worth  having  in  the  direction  of  patients 
to  localities  of  specific  benefit.  In  this  respect  we  require  some- 
thing more  precise  than  the  guide  books  which  have  been  written 
by  the  climatic  physicians. 

But  medical  systems,  like  the  departments  of  public  health  (pp. 
347 — 364),  follow  the  organs  and  faculties  of  man,  and  in  the 
nature  of  things  are  as  numerous  as  the  latter.  The  intestinal 
system  of  drugs  or  homoeopathy,  is  the  basis  (p.  382),  and  belongs 
to  the  alimentary  tube  :  hydropathy  and  its  kindred  appertain  to 
the  general  circumstantial  system,  and  specifically  to  the  skin  as 
the  organ  of  tone  and  continence  :  we  have  now  to  turn  our  atten- 
tion to  the  muscles  of  medicine,  or  to  that  method  of  cure  which 
only  lately  has  appeared  among  us,  under  the  designation  of  kinesi- 
pathy,  or  the   Swedish  Medical  Gymnastics,  and  which  already 


KINESIPATHY. — LING.  387 

ranks  among  the  most  important  means  of  removing  chronic  symp- 
toms of  disease. 

For  the  modern  development  of  artificial  analytical  exercise,  as 
applied  to  the  treatment  of  disease,  we  are  indebted  to  Ling,  the 
Swedish  poet,  whose  system  has  now  been  practised  with  success 
for  more  than  thirty  years  in  his  own  country.  This  Ling  was  a 
stern  but  versatile  genius,  worthy  of  the  Scandinavian  name — 
worthy  of  the  land  of  Eddas,  Sagas,  Gustavuses,  the  world's  best 
iron,  and  its  Swedenborg.  He  had  read  in  the  ancient  lore  of  his 
country  the  record  of  a  mental  and  bodily  prowess  of  uncommon 
virtue ;  the  doings  of  kings,  Jarls  and  vikings  in  the  olden  time, 
when  the  sea  rovers  sallied  forth  with  the  summer,  and  astonished 
the  effeminacy  of  the  known  world  with  their  strong  arms.  And 
the  thought  occurred  to  him,  that  it  was  possible  by  knowledge  well 
directed  in  practice,  to  combine  the  muscles  of  ancient  heroism 
with  the  civilization  of  to-day,  and  in  the  physical  frames  of  his 
Swedes,  to  re-enact  the  days  of  Snorro  and  Hakon  Jarl  in  those  of 
the  fourteenth  Charles.  In  short,  taking  his  cue  from  classic 
Greece,  he  sought,  by  gymnastic  exercises,  to  compensate  for  the 
bent  backs  and  dwindled  muscles  that  modern  pursuits  and  com- 
mon-place existence  have  produced.  He  stood  in  the  age  like  a 
kind  of  human  Hecla,  reminiscent  of  the  valor  of  a  thousand  years, 
and  pouring  forth  a  flood  of  incentives  to  his  race,  to  emulate  the 
strength  of  their  sires.  His  verse  breathes  with  a  Homeric  spirit 
of  combat,  with  a  delight  in  the  good  science  of  the  strokes,  as  well 
as  in  the  death  of  the  foe.  It  has  the  harshness  and  boldness  of  a 
muscular  rhyme.  His  harp  was  "  strung  with  bears'  sinews/' 
But  it  is  not  with  his  gymnastics  in  general  that  we  can  meddle, 
but  only  with  their  medical  part :  we  have  touched  on  the  other, 
because  the  subject  is  less  known  than  it  deserves  to  be  in  England, 
and  our  sign  post  may  direct  the  curious  on  its  way. 

It  is  told  of  Ling  that,  when  a  youth,  on  one  occasion  he  was 
weary  of  life,  and  like  a  bad  boy  he  wandered  slowly  on  a  biting 
winter  day,  as  thinly  clad  as  possible,  half  a  Swedish  mile  into  the 
country,  in  the  hope  of  catching  a  chill  which  would  terminate  his 
existence,  without  his  being  guilty  of  the  immediate  sin  of  suicide. 
He,  however,  only  took  a  common  cold  in  the  head,  which  led  him 


388  HEALTH. 

to  his  first  reflections  on  the  human  frame,  and  the  means  of  render- 
ing it  hardy.*  On  another  occasion,  when  suffering  from  rheuma- 
tism in  the  arm,  he  instinctively  rapped  the  part  with  a  ruler 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  found  that  he  cured  the  pain  :  this 
natural  experiment,  it  is  said,  was  the  occasion  of  Kinesipathy. 

This  art  consists  in  applying  external  motions,  passive  and  active 
exercise,  to  the  body;  and  in  rendering  these  so  special  as  to  operate 
on  the  various  inward  organs,  or  on  parts  of  them  specifically.  Pos- 
ture, friction,  percussion,  motion,  are  all  made  use  of;  and  already 
as  many  as  two  thousand  different  movements  have  been  devised  for 
the  purpose  of  operating  upon  the  failing  powers  within.  There  are 
languages  of  nudges,  to  remind  brain,  liver,  spleen,  and  all,  of  their 
neglected  duties.  The  effects  produced  approve  the  plan,  and  stamp 
it  as  an  art  and  science.  It  is  admonition,  contact,  exercise,  pur- 
sued into  details,  whereby  disease  is  literally  handled. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  malady  but  tends  in  some  way  to  alter  the 
bearing,  posture  or  general  status  of  the  body.  In  acute  cases  this 
is  plain.  We  groan,  writhe,  wriggle,  wince,  shake,  crawl,  creep, 
dance,  and  so  forth,  with  our  agonies  and  discomforts,  showing  that 
disease  ,is  a  complete  posture  master  and  very  good  serjeant,  whose 
drill  is  for  the  purpose  of  relief  and  cure.  Very  small  areas  of  dis- 
ease have  corresponding  to  them  large  movements  in  the  system; 
and  if  we  understood  the  movements,  we  could  by  reaction  play  upon 
the  parts  and  particles  of  the  organs.  If  a  special  wince  or  twist 
arises  primarily  out  of  some  one  place,  then  by  comprehending  the 
twist,  and  producing  it  artificially,  we  get  at  that  place  exactly,  were 
it  no  bigger  than  a  pin's  head.  Here  is  precise  gunnery — hitting 
disease  with  a  fine  arrow.  Again  there  are  instinctive  movements 
of  the  hands  towards  afflicted  parts  of  our  frames.  We  rub  ourselves 
with  organic  pity  like  dumb  animals  where  the  deep  flesh  is  ill. 
This  is  nature  working  for  us,  and  showing  us  the  beginning  of  a 
manual  science  of  soothing,  traction,  nudging,  and  so  forth,  the  detail 
of  which  is  Mnesipathy . 

We  have  been  greatly  struck  with  the  common  sense  which  dic- 
tated the  Lingian  art,  and  with  the  excellent  unexpected  results 

*  Allerbom  :  Intrudes  Tal  i  Svenska  Ai-ademien,  p.  21. 


KINESIPATHY.  389 

which  flow  from  such  simple  means.  Exercise  is  often  demanded, 
not  so  much  for  the  whole  frame,  as  for  particular  organs.  For  in- 
stance a  sluggish  liver  may  refuse  to  resume  its  functions  under  the 
general  stimulus  of  a  walk.  The  kinesipathist  exercises  the  liver 
itself:  by  his  jerks  and  suggestive  poking,  he  commands  it  to  make 
bile ;  and  sure  enough  the  liver  does  make  it.  By  a  like  precise- 
ness  of  application  he  cures  sluggish  bowels.  He  exerts  the  physical 
force  of  cure  with  the  gentleness  of  art  and  science.  He  strengthens 
special  muscles  by  adequate  ingenious  exercises.  He  cures  hot 
heads  and  cold  feet,  by  briskly  rotating  the  feet  upon  the  ankles, 
steadying  the  limb  by  grasping  its  lower  part.  And  so  forth.  This 
is  evidently  the  ultima  ratio  of  treatment  in  chronic  diseases. 

In  paralytic  cases,  where  the  nervous  derangement  is  only  func- 
tional, kinesipathy  is  found  to  be  an  effective  mode  of  cure.  Its 
doctrine  here,  as  we  read  it,  commends  itself  to  our  acceptance. 
Where  a  power  has  been  lost,  but  its  potency  is  left,  it  is  as  though 
the  power  had  never  been  developed.  A  palsied  man  of  this  kind 
has  forgotten  the  art  of  the  use  of  his  limbs,  and  has  to  learn  it  afresh. 
He  is  an  adult  in  those  parts  where  his  power  lies;  a  baby  in  the 
paralyzed  tracts.  The  medical  gymnast  undertakes  to  teach  the 
latter,  first  how  to  creep,  and  then  how  to  go.  He  commences 
by  passive  movements — nursing,  fumbling,  and  so  stimulating,  the 
helpless  large  infant  limb ;  and  by  degrees  a  little  reaction  against 
him  is  perceived.  He  then  makes  more  extensive  movements, 
stretching  the  muscles,  and  producing  further  reaction;  and  finally 
he  commands  the  resistance  of  the  patient,  and  then  by  his  superior 
force  slowly  overcomes  it :  in  all  these  processes  steadily  keeping  in 
view  the  end,  of  educating  the  limb  into  self-reliance,  or  as  we  term 
it,  sense  of  power  (p.  238).  Many  an  old  paralytic  is  cured  by  these 
apparently  trivial  means ;  the  mind  and  will  which  had  alienated 
themselves,  are  coaxed  back  into  his  arms  and  legs. 

Like  all  real  agents,  kinesipathy  is  capable  of  abuse.  It  appears  to 
be  contraindicated  in  nearly  all  acute  diseases,  and  we  should  also  say, 
in  those  where  rest,  and  not  motion,  is  demanded.  But  it  seems 
probable,  from  the  obviousness  of  the  method,  that  neither  the  gym- 
nast nor  the  patient  would  be  likely  to  persevere  to  any  great  mis- 
chief with  the  treatment, 

83* 


390  HEALTH. 

The  results  which  have  followed  this  art,  are  so  great  as  compared 
with  the  slightness  of  the  causes  set  at  work,  that  some  have  sus- 
pected a  mesmeric  effect  from  the  operator  to  the  patient.  It  may 
be  so;  but  at  any  rate  there  is  a  moral  cause  involved  which  we 
think  is  to  be  taken  into  account  in  all  such  procedures.  The  patient 
feels  that  something  is  being  done  for  him ;  that  another  human 
being  is  active  and  anxious  on  his  behalf,  and  does  not  disdain  to 
toil  for  his  bodily  restoration.  To  many  a  sick  man  this  is  an  ele- 
ment of  health ;  so  that  the  bad  pun  by  which  I  have  heard  Kinesi- 
pathy  changed  into  kindly  sympathy,  conveys  a  serious  truth.  I 
even  deem  that  the  dumb  hidden  organs  know  the  touches  of  a 
brother's  hand  and  heart,  and  are  organically  comforted  by  them; 
for  they  all  have  feelings  of  their  own,  and  spirits ;  as  we  have 
shown  in  many  places  in  these  Chapters  (pp.  226 — 228,  233 — 236). 
This  points  to  a  defect  in  mere  drug  medicining :  a  physician  writes 
a  prescription  and  leaves  it :  he  has  done  nothing  ostensible  to  the 
sufferer,  still  less  to  the  viscera  and  vitals  of  his  patient;  and  the 
rapport  between  the  two  persons  is  very  feeble,  and  by  no  means  of 
that  fraternal  warmth  which  is  curative  wherever  it  is  truly  expe- 
rienced.* 

Ling's  system  has  the  merit,  a  great  one  in  our  eyes,  of  continu- 
ing practices  that  have  existed  in  nearly  all  nations,  from  India  to 
Sweden;  for  rubbing,  shampooing,  and  various  forms  of  gymnastics 
are  almost  as  widely  diffused  as  language  itself.  Nor  until  of  late 
ages  has  gymnastics  disappeared  from  formal  medicine.  Kinesipathyf 

*  The  following  works  give  a  general  notion  of  the  Swedish  Medical  Gym- 
nastics, though  specific  movements  are  difficult  to  describe,  and  should  be  wit- 
nessed in  order  to  be  comprehended. 

Ling,  Gymnastiken 's  Almanna  Grunder.     Upsala,  1834,  1840. 

De  Betou,  Therapeutic  Manipulation.     London,  1846. 

Georgii,  Kinesitherapie,  oti  Traitement  des  Maladies  par  le  Mouvement,  selon 
la  Methode  de  Ling.     Paris,  1847. 

■ Kinesipathy,  or  the  Cure  of  Diseases  by  specific  active  and  passive 

Movements.     London,  1850. 

H.  Doherty,  Rinesipathy,  or  Medical  Gymnastics  for  the  Cure  of  Chronic 
Disease.     London,  1851. 

|  Ling's  aim  was  nothing  less  than  the  physical  education  of  man  correspond- 
ing to  the  mental.     This  branch  is  deserving  of  an  attention  which  it  has  not 


MESMERISM  OR  ANTIIROPOPATIIY.  391 

replaces  it  there,  and  in  such  a  shape  that  we  are  emboldened  to 
hope  from  what  we  know  of  itself  and  its  advocates,  that  it  will  never 
cede  its  place  again. 

We  now  come  to  another  part  in  the  organism  of  healing,  namely, 
Mesmerism,  or  what  we  might  term  Anthvopopathy,  as  it  cures  by 
the  application  of  man  to  man.  Of  its  virtues  in  cases  that  have 
resisted  all  other  means,  there  cannot  be  a  question :  its  facts  are 
established  not  alone  by  rigid  experiment,  but  by  deeds  worthy  of  a 
mural  crown,  because  they  have  saved  the  lives  of  many  citizens. 
It  is  for  this  reason,  and  also  because  our  organic  philosophy,  which 
knows  no  fear,  demands  it,  that  we  pass  on  to  Mesmerism,  although 
a  storm  of  hatred  rages  about  it,  and  every  step  of  its  advance  is  a 
fight. 

It  would  be  interesting  in  the  history  of  science  to  canvass  the 
reasons  why  certain  large  classes  of  facts  have  been  rejected  from 
time  to  time  :  why,  for  instance,  the  Church  of  Rome  felt  peculiarly 
aggrieved  that  the  earth  should  go  round  the  sun,  and  not  vice  versa  ; 
why  certain  moderns  dislike  to  live  on  a  planet  which  took  more 
than  seven  days  for  its  creation;  why  skeptics  have  a  call  to  blink 
all  evidence  for  spiritual  communications,  and  afterwards  opening 
their  sockets  widely,  complain  of  the  absence  of  facts;  and  lastly, 
why  the  medical  profession  fumes  and  shivers  whenever  mesmerism 
is  brought  forward.  In  all  these  cases,  as  we  deem,  it  is  the  instinct 
of  self-preservation  that  like  a  skin  (p.  282)  defends  the  parties 
against  the  reception  of  the  facts.  They  know  instinctively  that  the 
limitation  and  eggshell  of  their  state  is  in  danger,  and  that  if  the 
obnoxious  point  be  admitted,  they  will  have  the  trouble  of  building 
a  new  house  on  a  larger  scale.  At  present  the  pill-boxes  are  arranged 
in  pretty  rows;  but  allow  this  mesmerism  and  its  consequences,  and 

received.  To  our  mind,  no  school  ought  to  be  without  a  physical  inspector;  it" 
official,  so  much  the  better.  In  the  plastic  period  of  youth,  physical  defects  and 
awkwardnesses  may  be  corrected,  which  are  past  relief  at  a  later  time.  The 
bodies  of  boys  and  girls  ought  to  be  developed  by  inspection,  instruction,  andemu- 
lation,  and  especially  by  the  universal  means  of  dancing,  fencing,  and  the  politer 
movements.  Nor  should  such  trifling  matters  as  biting  nails  and  picking  noses 
be  tolerated.  Greek  and  Latin  are  of  less  importance  to  youth  than  a  corpus 
senium  out  of  which  all  manifest  unseemliness  has  been  weeded. 


392  HEALTH. 

Low  they  would  rattle  and  dance — what  a  long  period  of  confusion 
and  elimination  they  must  pass,  before  any  second  order  as  neat  as 
the  first  could  be  established !  It  is  the  dread  of  death,  that  shab- 
biest of  fears,  that  everlastingly  hates  truth,  because  truth  leads  to 
death,  future  states,  or  integral  enlargements,  of  which  there  is  no 
end.  Such  is  the  motive  of  this  very  poor  kind  of  conservatism, 
though  there  are  as  many  pretexts  as  there  are  ingenious  lazy  minds 
who  fancy  that  they  have  an  interest  in  a  well-arranged  stagnation 
of  the  arts. 

As  we  have  said  already,  mesmerism  stands  upon  its  facts,  which, 
in  proportion  to  time,  are  as  numerous  and  rigorous  as  those  of  any 
other  science.  But  the  facts  appear  so  strange,  and  so  little  in  the 
order  of  our  knowledge,  that  they  want  at  least  the  support  which 
association  of  principles  gives.  Those  who  cure  and  are  cured  ob- 
tain a  grasp  of  the  facts  from  mere  gratitude  and  service ;  but  the 
public  require  also  something  like  a  rationale  in  order  to  steady 
their  minds.  Hence,  though  the  facts  are  the  main  thing  for  those 
intimately  concerned,  yet  a  view  of  the  facts  is  quite  necessary  for 
the  fixation  of  mesmerism  in  the  scientific  sky. 

Nor  on  the  principles  of  this  Book  do  we  find  much  difficulty  in 
tracing  the  mesmeric  mechanism  and  its  results.  If  herbs,  waters, 
airs,  fire  and  motion,  which  are  such  remote  kindred  to  us  (p.  310), 
will  cure  our  ills,  surely  man  himself,  who  is  comparatively  own 
brother  to  every  man,  will  go  home  to  disease  with  a  directer  rela- 
tionship of  beneficence.  If  ever  it  has  been  good  to  be  under  a 
course  of  mercury,  shall  it  not  be  better  still  to  be  under  a  course 
of  humanity  ?  We  have  seen  throughout,  on  disintegrating  man, 
that  he  is  full  of  human  fluids  which  no  more  cease  with  his  surface, 
than  his  voice  ceases  with  his  lips :  that  his  influence  is  a  combined 
physical  and  moral  fact  whose  lengths  and  durations  can  hardly  be 
measured.  We  also  find  that  he  subsists  in  an  equilibrium  of  which 
his  own  will  is  the  centre,  and  that  his  sphere  of  radiance,  and 
swoop  of  powers,  depend  on  the  pulsations  of  his  will.  According 
as  this  heart  (pp.  251 — 287)  is  little,  or  large,  his  world  is  a  nut- 
shell, or  an  empire.  In  mesmerism  the  equilibrium  is  voluntarily 
ceded,  a  human  vacuum  or  obeisance  is  created,  and  the  radiance 
of  the  mesmerizer  or  active  power  rushes  in  to  fill  the  space.     A 


MESMERISM.  393 

pressure  of  fresh  spiritual  air  goes  right  through  the  frame.  This 
alone  is  the  greatest  of  alteratives — more  than  traveling,  more  than 
the  difference  between  hot  and  cold,  clear  and  misty,  winter  and 
summer.  The  organism  breathes  with  another  life  in  all  its  parts. 
For  the  time,  every  sense,  in  stomach,  spleen,  liver,  heart  and  brain 
and  every  idea  that  travels  in  the  fluids  (pp.  55, 152 — 154,  200 — 
224,  351),  is  changed;  self  is  voluntarily  absent;  and  the  functions 
go  on  minus  their  old  routine  of  habits.  The  nerves  and  arteries 
which  are  secreting  a  morbid  growth,  a  tumor,  for  example,  and 
which  have  got  to  think  that  they  must  lay  stone  to  stone  of  this 
vice,  and  build  a  fresh  piece  of  it  every  day,  suddenly  lose  their  habit- 
ude in  the  interest  of  a  new  spirit,  change  their  minds,  set  the  absorb- 
ents to  work  to  remove  the  architecture  of  evil,  and  pursue  their 
daily  course  for  their  legitimate  objects.  The  better  man,  in  short, 
is  persuasive  upon  the  worser,  inside  just  as  outside :  it  is  no  sense- 
less odyle  or  fluid  that  causes  the  effect,  but  a  human  although 
molecular  operation.  Fluids,  unless  they  are  men  also,  illustrate 
nothing,  nor  will  any  explanation  satisfy,  unless  it  be  a  rest,  and 
exclude  the  call  for  a  second  explanation. 

Mesmerism  emphatically  gives  new  or  other  life  to  those  who 
need  it ;  and  it  does  this  by  the  mere  form  and  attitude  which  the 
agent  and  patient  assume  relatively  to  each  other.  The  human 
world  is  full  of  powers  in  a  state  of  balance  and  indifference. 
Change  the  posture  of  anything  therein,  and  the  whole  has  to  re- 
adjust itself  to  a  new  balance — a  rush  of  forces  takes  place,  and 
currents  pass  to  and  fro  until  the  equilibrium  is  recovered.  The 
moral  and  the  physical  are  both  under  this  statical  law.  Hence,  if 
you  desire  to  produce  forces,  you  have  only  to  find  the  neighborhood 
of  the  fluids  or  spirit  powers,  and  by  creating  a  low  level  on  the  one 
hand,  you  also  make  relative  height,  and  have  a  deeper  fall  for  your 
forceful  waters  to  descend. 

These  remarks  are  too  brief  to  be  called  a  theory  of  mesmeric 
cure,  nor  do  they  touch  manifestly  upon  those  parts  of  mesmerism 
that  are  most  liable  to  be  discredited.  We  labor  however  under 
want  of  space  to  develop  the  subject  as  it  deserves,  and  we  can  now 
only  say,  that  out  of  the  same  law  of  Correspondence  which  is  the 
master-principle  of  science,  it  is  easy  to  deduce  the  explanation  of 


394  HEALTH. 

the  marvels  of  clairvoyance  and  transmission  of  thought,  and  in 
short  the  psychical  phenomena  of  mesmerism.  But  then  under 
this  view,  our  world  and  our  matter  so  change,  that  we  are  count- 
ing upon  admissions  which  few  readers  can  make,  but  without  which 
we  cannot  proceed  many  steps.  Let  it  suffice  then  to  say,  that  man 
in  the  posture  of  giving  up  himself,  becomes  a  bodily  representative 
of  the  powers  of  unselfishness  for  the  time  being;  that  miracle 
haunts  him,  because  unselfishness  is  a  miracle  j  that  he  enters  upon 
universal  sight,  second  sight,  third  sight,  and  more  sights  than  you 
please,  because  unselfing  is  the  core  of  all  wide  vision.  That  he 
dips  his  body  into  vigors  and  cures  by  the  same  abnegation,  because 
unselfishness  is  the  tree  whose  leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  all  men. 
This  comes  just  as  the  soul  comes  to  the  body  :  the  due  circumstance 
or  posture  of  affairs  is  there,  and  by  the  law  of  correspondence, 
whereby  the  equilibrium  of  creation  is  maintained,  its  spirit  is  "  in 
the  midst  of  it"  (pp.  242—244,  294—300).  The  very  theatricism 
of  what  is  good,  true  and  unselfish,  is  healing  to  the  scenework  of 
the  body. 

We  have  no  certain  knowledge  of  the  limits  of  mesmerism  as  a 
curative  agent,  nor  of  the  conditions  which  should  exclude  cases 
from  this  treatment.  In  functional  disorders  of  the  nervous  system 
it  is  especially  indicated,  and,  as  a  number  of  diseases  even  seem- 
ingly organic  spring  from  this  root,  it  appears  that  it  has  a  large 
field  of  applications  here.  Hysteria,  epilepsy,  catalepsy,  and  those 
other  maladies  in  which  the  visceral  motions  predominate  over  the 
rhythmical  or  rational  motions  of  the  lungs,  come  very  markedly 
under  its  benefits.  But  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  lay  down  any  rule 
for  the  distribution  to  it  of  cases  generally  j  and  therefore  we  wait 
upon  experiment,  which  shows  that  the  utilities  to  be  derived  from 
its  employment  are  very  extensive. 

Like  drugs,  cold  water,  movements,  and  stimulants,  mesmerism 
is  capable  of  abuse  in  many  ways.  Ill-disposed  persons  may  use  it 
to  acquire  an  influence  for  bad  ends.  It  is  however  probably  more 
often  abused  by  the  patients  than  by  the  agents,  being  resorted  to 
as  a  kind  of  opiate  to  compensate  for  the  want  of  moral  determina- 
tion. In  this  case  it  keeps  up  a  pernicious  valetudinarianism  that 
saps  the  foundations  of  resolve  in  the  patient,  by  causing  him  to 


MESMERISM.  395 

rely  upon  others  where  there  is  strength  sufficient,  were  it  exerted, 
in  his  own  organization.  A  fatal  mistake  is  made  whenever  we  treat 
with  petting  and  coddling,  in  our  own  minds,  or  in  others,  states 
which  we  ought  to  discipline  with  a  moral  lash  ;  and  this  mistake, 
I  fear,  is  often  committed  by  mesmeric  patients.  They  must  know 
that  there  is  no  patent  outward  means  that  can  be  a  substitute  for 
sanity  of  will  j  that  sooner  or  later  they  must  exert  themselves,  and 
waken  from  their  delusions  j  and  that  every  dose  of  their  mesmeric 
opium  over  and  above  what  was  required,  is  the  vehicle  of  a  weak- 
ness which  it  will  cost  them  a  fresh  struggle  to  conquer,  whenever 
the  time  when  they  must  arise  shall  come. 

"We  had  almost  forgotten  to  place  to  the  credit  of  mesmerism  its 
introduction  of  a  painless  surgery,  which  is  among  the  most  brilliant 
discoveries  of  the  age.  The  doctors  were  totally  incredulous  of  this 
matter,  until  ether  and  chloroform  came  and  did  the  same  thing  in  a 
grosser  shape.  If  there  were  shame  in  the  world  they  must  have  felt 
it,  when  they  found  how  easy  their  impossibilities  of  a  fortnight  be- 
fore had  become.  They  doubted  the  testimony  of  honest  men  where 
mesmerism  was  concerned;  they  accepted  the  same  facts  when 
chloroform  produced  them.  It  was  like  them  to  believe  in  bottles 
and  to  disbelieve  in  man.  But  let  them  pass.  This  discovery  of 
extinction  of  pain  has  no  end  of  results,  moral  as  well  as  physical. 
The  least  it  does  is  to  annihilate  severe  material  sufferings;  its  next 
fruit  is  in  time  to  strike  out  their  dread,  which  is  the  great  body 
killer.  It  is  plain  also  to  see,  that  as  an  idea  it  is  very  penetrating, 
and  suggests  a  painless  moral  surgery  among  the  ends  of  man  :  that 
all  operations  in  which  our  dear  properties  are  taken  from  us,  shall 
be,  like  the  first  abstraction  of  Adam's  rib,  performed  upon  us  in 
mercy's  "deep  sleep." 

In  quitting  mesmerism  we  notice  of  it,  as  we  also  observed  of  the 
Lingian  movements,  that  it  gathers  up  under  its  banner  a  number 
of  practices  that  have  existed  from  time  immemorial  in  most  parts 
of  the  earth.  This  is  to  say,  that  it  communicates  with  a  wide 
common  sense.  And  although  we  do  not  choose  to  call  everything 
mesmerism  which  is  strange  or  mysterious  looking,  yet  we  recognize 
a  certain  family  likeness  between  it  and  many  things  which  are 
even  venerable.     There  is  however  nothing  divine  in  it,  and  it  has 


396  HEALTH. 

no  relation  to  miracles  and  revelations,  excepting  that  it  imitates 
them  afar  off,  and,  like  all  other  things  in  the  world,  has  a  common 
connection  with  God.* 

Very  different  from  mesmerism,  and  yet  suggested  by  it,  is  the 
process  discovered  by  James  Braid  of  Manchester,  and  by  him 
called  hypnotism.  This  is  probably  but  one  of  a  number  of  arts 
to  which  we  shall  give  the  generic  name  of  phrenopathy,  for  it 
produces  its  effects  principally  as  actions  of  mind  upon  mind. 

Being  unsatisfied  with  the  pretensions  of  mesmerism,  and  skepti- 
cal of  its  truth,  Mr.  Braid  entered  the  field  as  a  disprover,  but  soon 
witnessed  phenomena  which  appeared  to  him  to  be  real,  though 
susceptible  of  another  explanation  than  the  mesmeric.  It  struck 
him  that  the  facts  were  the  result  of  abstraction  or  attention  carried 
to  excess,  and  he  accordingly  tried  the  experiment  of  causing  pa- 
tients to  stare  at  any  object  secured  or  held  above  their  foreheads, 
so  as  to  make  the  stare  assume  the  attitude  of  intense  contemplation. 
Success  attended  this  mode  in  many  instances,  and  sleep  was  induced 
in  a  few  minutes.  Mr.  B.  usually  selects  some  bright  object,  as  a 
silver  lancet  case,  held  in  the  mid-line  between  the  eyes,  and  the 
patient  gazes  thereat  with  fixed  stare  until  the  effects  are  produced 
— the  "double  internal  squint"  upwards  being  the  most  potential 
direction  of  the  eyes  for  the  purpose.  Soon  the  eyes  shut,  and  a 
state  is  produced,  varying  in  depth  from  mere  somnolency  to  double 
consciousness,  or  catalepsy. 

The  preliminary  state  is  that  of  abstraction,  produced  by  fixed 
gaze  upon  some  unexciting  and  empty  thing  (for  poverty  of  object 
engenders  abstraction),  and  this  abstraction  is  the  logical  premise  of 
what  follows.  Abstraction  tends  to  become  more  and  more  abstract, 
narrower  and  narrower;  it  tends  to  unity,  and  afterwards  to  nullity. 
There  then  the  patient  is,  at  the  summit  of  attention,  with  no  object 
left — a  mere  statue  of  attention — a  listening,  expectant  life ;  a  per- 
fectly undistracted  faculty,  dreaming  of  a  lessening  and  lessening 
mathematical  point;  the  end  of  his  mind  sharpened  away  to  nothing. 

*  The  Zoist,  a  quarterly  journal,  in  its  ninth  year's  existence,  affords  the  best 
history  of  the  progress  of  mesmerism  as  a  branch  of  the  healing  art.  We  refer 
our  readers  to  it  as  an  evidence  of  what  mesmerism  is  good  for. 


PHRENOPATHY.  397 

What  happens  ?  Any  sensation  that  appeals,  is  met  by  this  bril- 
liant attention,  and  receives  its  diamond  glare,  being  perceived  with 
a  force  of  leisure  of  which  our  distracted  life  affords  only  the  rudi- 
ments. External  influences  are  sensated,  sympathized  with,  to  an 
extraordinary  degree  :  harmonious  music  sways  the  body  into  graces 
the  most  affecting;  discords  jar  it  as  though  they  would  tear  it  limb 
from  limb.  Cold  and  heat  are  perceived  with  similar  exaltation;  so 
also  smells  and  touches.  In  short,  the  whole  man  appears  to  be 
given  to  each  perception.  The  body  trembles  like  down  with  the 
wafts  of  the  atmosphere ;  the  world  plays  upon  it  as  upon  a  spiritual 
instrument  finely  attuned. 

This  is  the  natural  hypnotic  state,  but  it  may  be  modified  arti- 
ficially. The  power  of  suggestions  over  the  patient  is  excessive. 
If  you  say,  What  animal  is  it  ?  the  patient  will  tell  you  it  is  a  lamb, 
or  a  rabbit,  or  any  other.  Does  he  see  it  ?  Yes.  What  animal 
is  it  now  ?  putting  depth  and  gloom  into  the  tone  of  noiVj  and 
thereby  suggesting  a  difference.  "Oh,"  with  a  shudder,  "it  is  a 
wolf."  What  color  is  it?  still  glooming  the  phrase.  "Black." 
What  color  is  it  now  ?  giving  the  now  a  cheerful  air.  "  Oh,  a 
beautiful  blue" — spoken  with  the  utmost  delight.  And  so  you 
lead  the  subject  through  any  dreams  you  please,  by  variation  of 
questions,  and  of  inflections  of  the  voice ;  and  he  sees  and  feels  all 
as  real. 

Another  curious  study  is  the  influence  of  the  patient's  postures 
on  his  mind  in  this  state.  Double  his  fist,  and  put  up  his  arm,  if 
you  dare,  for  you  will  have  the  strength  of  your  ribs  rudely  tested. 
Put  him  on  his  knees  and  clasp  his  hands,  and  the  saints  and  devo- 
tees of  the  artists  will  pale  before  the  trueness  of  his  devout  act- 
ings. Raise  his  head  while  in  prayer,  and  his  lips  pour  forth  exult- 
ing glorifications,  as  he  sees  heaven  opened,  and  the  Majesty  of 
God  raising  him  to  his  place ;  then  in  a  moment  depress  the  head, 
and  he  is  dust  and  ashes,  an  unworthy  sinner,  with  the  pit  of  hell 
yawning  at  his  feet.  Or  compress  the  forehead  so  as  to  wrinkle  it 
vertically,  and  this  little  attitude  of  gloom,  glooms  the  whole  mind, 
and  thorny-toothed  clouds  contract  in  from  the  very  horizon ;  and 
what  is  remarkable,  the  smallest  pinch  and  wrinkle,  such  as  will  lie 
between  your  nipping  nails,  is  sufficient  nucleus  to  crystalize  the 
34 


398  HEALTH. 

man  into  that  shape,  and  to  make  him  all  foreboding ;  as  again  the 
smallest  expansion,  in  a  moment,  brings  the  opposite  state,  with  a 
full  breathing  of  delight.  Raise  the  head  next,  and  ask,  if  it  be  a 
young  lady,  whether  she  or  some  other  is  the  prettier  :  and  observe 
the  inexpressible  hauteur,  and  the  puff  sneers  let  off  from  the  lips, 
which  indicate  a  conclusion  too  certain  to  need  utterance  ;  depress 
the  head,  and  repeat  the  question ;  and  mark  the  self-abasement 
with  which  she  now  says,  "  She  is,"  as  hardly  worthy  to  make  the 
comparison.  In  this  state,  whatever  posture  of  any  passion  is 
induced,  the  passion  comes  into  it  at  once,  and  dramatizes  the  body 
accordingly. 

Moreover,  the  patient's  mind  directed  to  his  own  body,  does  phy- 
sical marvels.  He  can  do  in  a  manner  what  he  thinks  he  can. 
Place  a  handkerchief  on  a  table,  and  beg  him  to  try  to  lift  it,  ob- 
serving, however,  that  you  know  it  to  be  impossible,  and  he  will 
groan  and  sweat  over  the  cambric  as  though  it  were  the  anchor  of 
a  man-of-war )  on  the  other  hand,  tell  him  that  a  fifty-six  pound 
weight  is  a  light  cork,  to  be  held  out  at  arm's  length  on  his  little 
finger,  and  he  will  hold  it  out  with  ease.  Tell  him  that  a  tumor 
on  his  body  is  about  to  disappear,  and  his  mind  will  often  realize 
your  prophecy.  Of  the  following  case  Mr.  B.  himself  informed 
me.  A  lady  who  was  leaving  off  nursing  from  defect  of  milk,  the 
baby  being  thirteen  months  old,  was  hypnotized  by  him.  He  made 
passes  over  her  right  breast  to  call  her  attention  to  it,  and  in  a  few 
moments  her  gestures  showed  that  she  dreamt  the  baby  was  suck- 
ing. In  two  minutes,  the  breast  was  distended  with  milk.  She 
was  awoke,  and  on  being  questioned  whether  any  part  of  her  frame 
felt  differently  from  the  rest,  she  perceived  the  state  of  her  bosom, 
and  mentioned  it  ;  to  which  Mr.  B.  replied  that  the  baby  would 
soon  settle  that.  The  infant  was  nearly  choked  with  the  rush  of 
milk.  In  three  days  she  came  back  to  Mr.  B.  and  complained  that 
he  had  disfigured  her,  for  she  was  protuberant  on  one  side.  He 
promised  to  take  the  swelling  down  ;  hypnotized  her ;  but  drew  the 
other  side  also  by  the  like  means  ;  and  she  nursed  her  child  from 
an  overflowing  bosom  for  twenty-two  months;  being  nine  after 
the  hypnotism. 

A  patient  in  the  full  state  obeys  all  motives  in  the  most  natural 


PHRENOPATHY.  399 

direction.  If  the  arm  is  placed  up,  there  it  will  stay  :  but  a  waft 
of  air  will  cause  it  to  fall  down.  Why  ?  Because  it  is  already  up, 
and  the  new  motive  changes  the  direction.  If  the  arm  be  down, 
another  waft  will  raise  it.  If  down,  and  prevented  from  moving 
up,  the  impression  will  send  it  sideways.  When  the  frame  is  erect, 
a  touch  behind  in  the  bend  of  the  knees,  will  send  it  into  genuflexion, 
which  will  at  once  suggest  prayer,  as  noticed  before,  &c. 

An  interesting  question  arises  :  In  what  does  hypnotism  differ 
from  mesmerism,  and  from  common  sleep  ?  Are  the  two  former 
identical  ?  We  think  not.  We  recognize  the  three  as  the  main 
trine  of  sleep,  each  depending  on  its  first  principle.  The  atom  of 
sleep  is  diffusion  :  the  mind  and  body  are  dissolved  in  unconscious- 
ness ;  they  go  off  into  nothing  through  the  fine  powder  of  infinite 
variety,  and  die  of  no  attention  j  common  sleep  is  impersonal. 
The  unit  of  hypnotism  is  intense  attention,  abstraction,  the  personal 
ego  pushed  to  nonentity.  The  unit  of  mesmerism  is  the  common 
state  of  the  patient,  caught  as  he  stands,  and  subjected  to  the  radi- 
ant ideas  of  another  person  :  it  is  mediate ;  or  both  personal  and 
impersonal.  Neither  sleep  nor  hypnotism  can  exist  in  the  presence 
of  a  second  person,  without  partaking  more  or  less  of  mesmerism. 
The  sleep-brain  is  fluid,  the  hypnotic  brain  movable-pointed,  and  the 
mesmeric  brain  elastic.  Sleep=influx;  hypnotism = efflux  ;  mes- 
merism =  afflux. 

Patients  can  produce  the  hypnotic  effects,  upon  themselves  with- 
out any  second  party  •  although  a  second  will  oftentimes  strengthen 
the  result  by  his  acts  or  presence ;  just  as  one  who  stood  by,  and 
told  you  that  you  were  to  succeed  in  a  certain  work,  would  nerve 
your  arm  with  fresh  confidence. 

We  presume  it  is  evident  to  the  reader,  what  a  power  Mr.  Braid 
has  methodized  and  called  into  play  for  the  treatment  of  diseases. 
As  a  curative  agent,  hypnotism  contains  two  elements — each  valua- 
ble of  its  kind:  1.  Where  it  produces  trance,  it  has  the  benefits 
of  the  mesmeric  sleep,  or  furnishes  so  strong  a  dose  of  rest,  that 
many  cases  are  cured  by  that  alone.  But  2.  The  suggestion  of 
ideas  of  health,  tone,  duty,  hope,  which  produce  dreams  influential 
upon  the  organization,  enables  the  operator  by  this  means  to  fulfil 
the  indication  of  directly  ministering  to  that  mind  diseased,  which 


400  HEALTH. 

always  accompanies  and  aggravates  physical  disorders.  "We  have 
a  direct  proof  of  the  continuation  of  the  mind  through  the  body,  in 
the  way  in  which  suggestions  directed  to  the  mind  respecting  the 
organs,  operate  upon  the  latter.  By  touching  the  abdomen  over  the 
colon,  and  suggesting  the  effect,  we  can,  in  susceptible  persons,  pro- 
duce the  results  of  aperient  medicines,  and  abolish  constipation  for 
years.  This  order  of  facts  has  an  important  bearing  upon  the  origin 
as  well  as  cure  of  disease,  rendering  it  probable  that  a  large  num- 
of  ills  come  directly  out  of  the  patient's  mind ;  for  if  alteration  of 
fancy  heals,  this  suggests  that  fancy  first  engenders,  the  complaint. 
Viewed  in  this  light,  many  physical  changes  of  structure  may  be 
regarded  as  organic  insanities  or  spells,  which  only  require  the  right 
word  from  the  physician  to  dissipate  them  j  and  although,  if  they 
went  on,  they  would  kill  by  their  virulence,  yet  they  are  curable 
by  a  simple  impression  from  without.  Next  to  the  self-control  of 
the  patient,  which  is  the  top  of  the  mortal  medicines,  we  may  justly 
reckon  this  control  of  the  doctor,  who  makes  use  of  his  own  health 
and  knowledge  to  give  faith  in  the  moments  when  it  can  be  received.* 

*  Mr.  Braid's  process  consists  in  fixing  the  eyes,  or  rather  the  attention, 
which  itself  fixes  the  eyes.  After  the  patient  has  gazed  steadily  for  one  or  two 
minutes,  the  lids  are  closed  by  the  fingers  of  the  operator,  should  they  not  pre- 
viously close  by  themselves.  This  is  to  prevent  straining,  which  might  produce 
headache,  or  cerebral  disturbance.  In  case  the  sleep  is  not  produced,  Mr.  B. 
still  keeps  the  attention  awake  by  bending  the  patient's  arm  and  setting  it  up- 
right, and  also  by  putting  out  the  legs  at  right  angles  to  the  body.  The  effort 
to  maintain  these  positions  energizes  the  will,  and  fixes  the  patient's  mind  upon 
the  operation.  Where  volition  is  weakened,  this  is  sometimes  an  excellent 
means  of  again  bringing  it  into  the  organism.  In  cases  of  paralysis,  patients 
can  frequently  move  in  this  state  where  they  have  no  power  in  the  ordinary  one. 
It  is  known  that  the  emotions  will  move  limbs  that  are  palsied,  although  the  will 
has  no  effect  upon  them  ;  and  that  afterwards  the  will  frequently  retains  the 
powers  thus  conferred.  In  the  hypnotic  state,  the  operator  can  play  upon  the 
emotions  by  a  variety  of  suggestive  means  ;  and  in  this  way  give  power  to  im- 
potent parts,  and  hand  them  over  to  the  will.  Mr.  Braid's  devices  for  these  ends 
stamp  him  as  a  man  of  inventive  genius,  and  we  are  surprised  that  such  a  piece 
of  combined  intellectual  and  scientific  sagacity  as  hypnotism,  has  not  placed  him 
long  ago  in  the  first  rank  of  metropolitan  physicians. 

The  titles  of  Mr.  Braid's  works  are  as  follow  : — 

Neurypnology,  or  the  Rationale  of  Nervous  Sleep.     London,  1843. 

The  Power  of  the  Mind  over  the  Body.     London,  1846. 

Observations  on  Trance,  or  Hitman  Hybernation.     London,  1850. 


PHRENOPATHY.  401 

Shall  we  then  say  that  here  we  have  a  stream  from  the  ancients' 
arts  of  phrenopathy  or  putopathy*  and  a  dawning  recognition  of 
the  spirituality  of  disease  and  of  cure  ?  I  do  not  think  that  loss  of 
faith  and  the  other  inward  graces  is  the  tap  root  of  bodily  sickness ; 
and  that  fears,  apathies,  hatreds,  and  self-seekings  are  the  sowers 
who  go  forth  to  sow  poison  through  our  frames.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  renewal  of  faith,f  even  when  impressed  from  without, 

*  rno-Tic,  faith. 

t  With  respect  to  the  operation  of  medicines  upon  and  through  the  imagina- 
tion, and  to  the  operation  of  charms,  this  belongs  to  the  personal  side  of  the  art 
of  healing,  and  medicine  cannot  relinquish  it  without  quitting  its  hold  upon 
some  of  the  principal  departments  of  man.  When  incantation  ceased,  and  was 
exploded  by  newer  thoughts,  its  principle  should  have  been  carefully  investigated, 
and  the  virtue  and  goodness,  if  any,  which  lay  at  the  core,  should  have  been 
retained.  But  in  acting  upon  the  imagination,  one  objection  may  be  noticed, 
which  has  a  large,  perhaps  the  principal  share  in  banishing  this  kind  of  hygiene 
from  practice ;  and  yet,  which  rightly  considered,  is  no  objection  at  all.  The 
patients,  so  the  doctors  tell  us,  no  longer  believe  in  imagination-treatment; 
and  because  they  do  not  believe,  the  treatment  will  have  no  efficacy.  We  reply, 
it  makes  little  matter  whether  they  believe  or  not.  And  the  reason  is  clear. 
For  belief  is  two-fold  :  first,  educational  or  scientific,  but  second,  fundamental 
or  organic.  To  illustrate  my  meaning,  I  will  relate  an  anecdote  which  happened 
to  myself  with  a  friend  who  was  a  person  of  strong  faculties,  and  deeply  imbued 
with  current  modes  of  philosophizing.  We  were  discussing  the  reality  of 
ghosts  and  apparitions,  and  my  friend  argued  with  honest  stoutness  that  they 
were  flimsy  illusions,  and  had  no  claim  on  the  attention  of  strong-minded  peo- 
ple. But  being  as  candid  as  he  was  strong,  he  presently  added  :  "  I  don't  know 
how  it  is,  but  when  I  talk  of  such  things,  I  feel  a  cold  stream  down  the  back." 
Here  was  a  case  in  which  the  same  good  man  was  plaintiff  in  one  part  of 
his  body,  and  defendant  in  another  :  he  denied  ghosts  with  his  lips  and  be- 
lieved them  with  his  back-bone  :  and  fortified  as  he  was  by  such  arguments 
negative  as  could  be  had,  he  was  still,  by  witness  of  the  "  Coldstream,"  as  capa- 
ble of  receiving  a  dose  of  fright  as  if  he  had  been  "a  sick  girl."  His  body,  which 
is  substantial,  credited  more  than  his  soul :  Balaam's  ass  saw  the  spirits  which 
Balaam  could  not  see.  This  is  merely  an  illustration  of  the  existence  of  a  cor- 
poreal faith,  when  the  mental  faith  is  deficient;  and  of  the  efficacy  of  the  corpo- 
real faith  in  producing  bodily  alterations.  Thus  it  is  that  charms,  personal 
suggestions,  mesmerism,  minute  doses  of  medicine,  &c.  &c,  act  upon  the  con- 
scious man  without  the  active  concurrrence  of  his  reason,  nay,  often  in  spite  of 
it.  For  the  body  itself  knows  bodily  what  is  true  and  influential,  whether  the 
mind  knows  it  mentally  or  not.  We  have  therefore  every  ground,  despite  the 
absence  of  faith  in  the  higher  sense,  to  persevere  in  the  remedies  of  faith,  which 
will  not  cease  to  cure  though  we  be  unfaithful.  Thus  it  is  well  known  that 
warts  can  be  charmed  away  where  their  owner  has  no  faitli  in  the  process  ;  and 
for  this  reason  ;  that  though  he  has  no  educational  belief  in  the  charm,  his  imag- 

34* 


402  HEALTH. 

handles  the  organism  as  the  will  handles  the  muscles,  and,  if  we 
may  use  the  expression,  converts  and  Christianizes  the  body,  that  is 
to  say,  heals  it.  The  virtue  of  hypnotism,  where  it  succeeds,  is 
just  this,  that  for  the  moment  it  unweeds  the  human  soil  so  com- 
pletely, that  whatever  faith  is  impressed,  can  work  and  grow.  It 
surely  points  to  human  agency  all  through  disease,  when  we  find 
that  monomanias  can  be  given,  or  removed,  in  a  moment,  by  the 
suggestion  of  another  from  without  j  it  points  to  a  scientific  theory 
of  the  influx  of  ideas  from  other  men,  visible  and  invisible,  as  an 
account  of  the  outward  supplies  of  life. 

We  regard  hypnotism  as  the  most  intellectual  phenomenon 
which  has  yet  been  produced  by  the  phrenopathists,  as  suggestive  of 
a  new  personnel  in  the  bearing  of  the  physician.  It  seems  to  show 
that  there  is  scarcely  a  case  in  which  the  latter  should  not  do  some- 
thing actual  besides  the  administration  of  drugs  ;  for  the  sick  organ- 
ism expects  to  be  handled.  It  also  proclaims  to  us  what  an  artistry 
should  be  cultivated  by  those  who  practice  medicine )  what  tact 
should  electrify  their  fingers,  what  resolve  should  vertebrate  their 
words,  what  cordials  should  drop  from  their  mouths,  what  airs  of 
reassurance  should  surround  them,  and  how  ease  and  cheerfulness 
should  radiate  from  their  presence,  as  they  move  from  bed  to  bed. 
To  simplify  all  this  to  them,  they  must  verily  believe  that  medicine 
is  the  daughter  of  heaven,  and  that  they  live  to  be  inspired,  and  to 
inspire. 

We  do  not  mean  that  the  character  of  the  good  physician  should 
be  the  corollary  of  any  juggle,  however  useful  for  a  time,  or  that  he 

ination,  as  a  body  and  a  structure,  is  capable  of  being  influenced  by  it,  and  of 
operating  its  own  lordly  removals  and  avaunts  upon  the  warts  :  for  in  imagina- 
tion, what  you  seem  to  have,  you  have  ;  and  the  body  is,  among  other  things,  full 
of  imagination.  Nevertheless,  where  the  two  faiths  coincide,  the  effect  will  be 
more  rapid;  and  they  are  always  tending  to  coincide,  either  by  the  conversion 
of  the  mind  to  the  catholicity  of  the  body,  or  of  the  body  to  the  principles  of  the 
mind.  A  good  instance  of  this  is  seen  in  Nicolai's  ghost-case,  where,  in  spite  of 
seeing  and  hearing,  Nicolai,  being  a  considerable  philosopher,  discredited  his 
ghosts,  and  cured  them  by  the  application  of  leeches  :  his  body  became  as  philo- 
sophical as  his  mind,  as  much  bent  upon  seeing  nothing,  and  was  emptied  of  its 
spiritual  instincts.  In  this  case  Balaam  and  his  beast  were  both  orthodoxly  one- 
sighted,  and  trudged  the  common  high-road  of  the  bookselling  business,  each  as 
wise  as  the  other. 


THE  PHYSICIAN.  403 

should  cure  ultimately  by  impressing  imaginations  upon  his  flock. 
We  only  use  these  as  signs  pointing  to  a  truth.  What  the  physi- 
cian should  be,  I  dare  not  attempt  to  sketch.  But  I  see  that  already 
he  is  called  out  of  the  ranks  as  the  most  humane  man  of  his  time. 
I  see  that  he  wants  the  largest  faith,  in  addition  to  the  largest  science ; 
gentleness  and  sternness  also  moulded  together,  as  the  lamb  with  the 
lion.  Nor  can  heroism  using  all  the  rest  as  a  resource,  be  dispensed 
with,  to  the  very  brink  of  death ;  for  while  there  is  life  there  is 
hope.  Perhaps  without  attempting  more,  we  may  sum  him  up  in 
saying  that  he  should  be  the  model  of  the  health  of  the  age. 

We  use  the  pronoun  "  he,"  leaving  it  to  progress  to  say,  whether 
our  own  sex  has  exclusive  rights  in  the  healing  art.  We  cannot  settle 
that  question  ;  but  at  all  events  we  know,  that  the  better  half  of  the 
health  of  the  world  depends  upon  the  partners  of  our  toil.  It  is  clear 
to  us,  that  in  no  long  time,  the  various  organic  systems  of  medicine, 
(many  of  which  have  still  to  appear,  being  due  to  the  organs  of  the 
frame,)  will  necessitate  the  constitution  of  a  tribunal  for  distributing 
cases  under  their  proper  treatments.  Perhaps  it  may  then  be  found 
that  there  is  a  female  side  to  this  as  well  as  to  the  other  arts.  Cer- 
tainly many  of  the  qualities  of  the  physician  seem  to  belong  pre- 
eminently to  woman.  Instant  presence  of  mind,  fine  tact,  obser- 
vation quick  and  subtle,  instinctive  promptings  often  surpassing 
science,  might,  it  seems,  sit  at  the  bedside  in  a  female  form.  Or  is 
it  that  the  nurse-function  is  to  be  so  far  educated  and  elevated,  as 
at  length,  without  trenching  upon  professional  titles,  to  touch  the 
heights  of  the  physician's  skill  ?  The  urn  of  events  must  speak 
for  us,  for  here  we  are  at  fault.* 

But  after  all  our  systems  of  health,  public  and  private,  many  in 
number  as  they  are,  though  not  enough,  there  is  one  means  remain- 
ing, which  we  should  be  guilty  of  much  base  terror,  as  well  as  histori- 
cal neglect,  if  we  did  not  dare  to  bring  forth.  In  all  the  branches  of 
the  New  Medicine,  we  have  seen  the  united  principle  of  faith  and 
works  assuming  an  additional  importance,  as  we  have  risen  from  the 

=*  In  the  meantime  our  brave  friend,  Dr.  Elizabeth  Blackwell,  has  run  the 
gauntlet  of  the  world's  prejudices,  and  taken  perhaps  the  first  medical  degree 
bestowed  upon  a  woman.  May  success  go  with  her  in  her  attempt  to  open  up 
a  fresh  avenue  of  occupations  to- her  sex  ! 


404  HEALTH. 

administration  of  drugs  stage  by  stage  to  the  phrenopathic  art.  In 
the  means  to  which  we  have  alluded,  and  which  is  linked  with  our 
common  faith,  this  principle  becomes  all  in  all.  Of  course  we 
allude  to  the  healing  powers  exerted  by  Christ  and  His  apostles,  and 
by  Him  bequeathed  to  the  race  of  man.  As  we  read  the  Gospels, 
we  see  how  the  Divine  Man  was  also  the  great  Physician ;  how  he 
went  about  healing  all  manner  of  sickness  and  all  manner  of  dis- 
ease among  the  people  ;  and  how  as  many  as  touched  the  hem  of 
his  garments  were  made  whole,  every  one.  He  also  commanded 
his  followers  to  do  the  like,  and  founded  cure  as  the  grand  evidence 
of  the  Christian  religion.  His  proofs  of  his  mission  were  sound 
bodies;  the  deaf  hearing;  the  dumb  speaking;  lepers  cleansed; 
the  dead  raised ;  those  who  before  were  blind,  now  they  see.  The 
channel  of  this  was  no  learned  science,  but  a  simple  command  in 
His  name  who  has  all  the  power  in  heaven  and  on  earth.  Where 
is  the  lineal  priesthood  of  this  great  restoration?  Where  are  the 
claimants  for  this  substantial  apostolical  successorship  1  Where  are 
the  layers  on  of  hands  who  give  man  to  himself  by  casting  out  his 
devils,  and  increase  the  prime  wealth  of  the  earth  as  the  sign  and 
seal  of  the  advent  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?  Where  is  the  clergy 
to  whom  sickness  makes  its  last  appeal  for  health,  when  doctors 
have  pronounced  the  death  words,  No  hope  ?  We  find  them  among 
the  fishermen  of  the  first  century,  but  not  among  the  prelates  of  the 
nineteenth :  in  mean-clad  Peter  and  Paul,  James  and  John,  but  not 
under  the  lawn  of  any  right  reverend  bench.  Our  pontiffs  say  that 
the  age  of  miracles  is  past ;  but  no  New  Testament  ever  told  them 
so ;  Christianity,  as  we  read  it,  was  the  institution  of  miracle  as  in 
the  order  of  nature ;  and  if  the  age  of  miracles  is  gone,  it  is  because 
the  age  of  Christianity  is  gone.  The  age  of  mathematics  would  be 
past,  if  no  man  cultivated  them.  On  the  other  hand  we  aver,  by 
all  our  honesty  to  our  faith,  that  for  every  reason  we  can  perceive,  a 
duty  is  neglected  here  which  is  a  main  cause  of  irreligion  and 
skepticism  among  men.  As  in  the  sciences,  which  are  the  kings 
of  these  late  days,  let  this  mode  and  matter  of  healing  be  fairly  ex- 
perimented. It  belongs  to  the  priesthood.  Let  them  turn  out  into 
the  inclemencies  of  society,  and  try  their  adjurations  against  the 
storm  of  physical  evil  that  exasperates  the  nations  to  their  core. 


CHRISTOPATHY.  405 

Let  them  put  on  the  proofs  of  the  apostolic  power.  Let  them 
peril  all  in  this  great  attempt.  Let  the  weak  excuse  of  their 
age  of  virtue  being  past,  be  exchanged  for  a  godly  resolve  to  bring 
it  back  again.  If  they  fail,  it  will  be  because  they  are  not  Christ- 
ian, or  else  because  Christianity  cannot  bide  its  own  proofs.  If 
they  succeed,  there  will  be  no  need  of  missionaries  any  more,  but 
mankind  will  sit  in  a  right  mind  under  them,  and  bless  their  privi- 
lege, and  their  Master's  name.  The  vis  medicatrix  Christi  will  be 
the  physical  demonstration  of  the  life  of  a  Christian  church. 

Under  all  these  means,  co-working  for  good,  shall  not  the  body 
be  redeemed,  and  evil  begin  to  lose  the  footing  that  sickness  gives 
it?  By  heaven's  law  the  sick  have  claims  which  the  healthy  have 
not,  and  there  is  more  joy  over  one  man  cured,  that  over  ninety  and 
nine  who  are  sound.  This  is  a  test  of  every  society — how  it  speeds, 
or  how  it  lags,  in  administering  to  its  sick.  They  are  the  weakest 
parts  of  our  common  body,  and  care  and  thought  turn  to  them  with 
longings  that  are  the  flesh  of  the  physician's  heart.  And  the  more 
that  are  healed,  the  more  concentrate  is  the  love  upon  those  who 
suffer  still;  so  that  at  length  the  world's  whole  skill  and  tenderness 
shall  surround  with  arts  and  healing  tears  the  bed  of  the  last  sick 
man. 

Yet  we  are  all  to  die,  though  in  time  neither  by  the  sword  of  war, 
nor  by  the  violence  of  disease.  The  embryo  passes  without  fear  into 
a  larger  world,  which  is  meant  to  be  kinder  than  the  mother's  womb. 
The  man  is  to  be  born  again,  with  as  little  pain  of  sense  and  thought, 
into  the  next  expansion  of  the  spirit.  Death  is  the  angel  to  the 
irremediable.  0  prseclarum  ilium  diem!  Let  us  set  our  houses 
in  order,  make  our  wills,  and  take  our  leave  of  all  things  every  day : 
we  shall  be  wanted  among  our  fathers  afar  off  on  the  morrow. 


APPENDIX. 


Note  to  p.  112. 


Throughout  this  work  we  have  been  anxious  to  register  the 
cases  in  which  the  body  expresses  the  soul ;  for  we  have  a  conviction 
that  such  effects  go  deep  into  the  nature  and  theory  of  our  corporeal 
incarnation.  If  the  outward  universe  be  a  manifestation  of  spirit, 
it  is  a  fair  question  whether  in  the  human  sphere  the  realm  of  ex- 
pression be  not  the  essence  of  manifestation.  And  as  expression  is 
either  self-evidently  intelligible,  or  nothing,  so  it  amounts  when 
fully  traced,  to  a  complete  exposition  of  nature  in  its  universal  prin- 
ciples. It  is  but  another  name  for  symbolism  and  correspondency. 
Hence  to  our  mind  the  importance  of  the  gestures  of  the  body,  in 
expounding  the  functions,  and  the  ultimate  structure,  of  the  organs. 
For  example,  if  the  liver,  as  bile  maker,  be  the  wise  organic  anger 
of  the  frame,  then  the  whole  personality  of  anger,  traced  through 
every  part,  from  the  furies  of  the  face,  to  the  violences  of  the  arms, 
and  the  stampings  of  the  feet,  come  to  be  put  back  into  the  liver, 
and  indeed  into  the  bile,  which  is  thus  a  wrath  full  of  human  signi- 
ficance, and  thence  capable  of  acting,  with  due  terror-strikings,  upon 
the  society  of  the  body.  So  too  the  manifestation  or  gestures  of  love 
go  into  the  heart,  and  show  what  it  and  the  blood  are  doing  in  their 
auricular  privacies,  &c,  &c,  &c.  We  therefore  deem  that  there  is 
no  more  important  subject  in  psychology,  than  this  of  expression,  or 
organic  Words.  And  as  we  indicated  before  (p.  380),  it  is  the 
plainest  symptom  of  all  that  gives  the  clue  to  the  expression,  all 
whose  parts  follow  that  bell-wether  as  its  flock. 


408  APPENDIX. 

Note  top.  166. 

Trace  whatever  department  we  will,  we  find  that  association  is 
the  new  world  of  this  century,  whose  symptoms  have  been  long  pre- 
paring; growing  up,  like  little  coral  apices,  the  germinating  points 
of  future  islands  and  continents.  One  early  dot  of  this  kind  which 
arose  from  the  ocean  of  vagueness,  was  the  doctrine  of  the  associa- 
tion of  ideas,  seized  by  the  strong  common  sense  of  Hobbes,  and 
afterwards  methodized  and  mechanized  by  the  genius  of  Hartley. 

That  the  human  mind  stimulates  itself  into  action  in  certain  lines 
of  ideas,  and  that  there  are  trains,  regiments  and  bands  of  thoughts; 
that  pleasures  and  pains  determine  the  formation  of  these  intellectual 
cohorts,  is  a  fact  in  which  there  is  but  little  novelty;  and  yet  when 
it  is  seized,  and  taken  as  a  stand-point,  it  leads  by  these  very  regi- 
ments, into  new  kinds  of  operation.  It  gives  militariness,  and 
march,  and  in  high  cases  music  to  the  soul,  preparing  for  conquest 
under  strategical  principles;  for  the  discipline  of  thought,  whether 
discovered  as  nature's,  or  commanded  by  man,  has  the  same  results 
upon  science,  as  the  drill  of  armies  upon  material  warfare.  We 
therefore  lay  it  down,  that  the  doctrine  of  the  association  of  ideas, 
when  set  in  motion,  invades  every  subject  with  fresh  force,  and  with 
the  new  element  of  breadth  of  attack.  This  is  not  indeed  a  depart- 
ment important  in  practice :  we  cite  it  rather  from  its  smallness,  as 
showing  that  the  associative  air  has  permeated  even  into  the  minute 
sphere  of  individual  thought. 

One  step  larger,  and  we  come  to  the  material  sciences :  and  what 
has  been  the  process  here  ?  Every  victory  has  been  gained  by  look- 
ing at  subjects  not  in  themselves  alone,  but  as  connected  with  their 
neighbors.  How  barren  each  thing  is  while  it  stands  upon  its  own 
individuality;  how  its  properties  one  by  one  die  down,  as  we  cut  it 
off  from  the  influences  of  the  surrounding  natures !  The  association 
of  single  things  with  each  other  in  a  common  knowledge,  is  what 
brings  them  under  the  grasp  of  a  particular  science;  which  is  no 
sooner  constituted,  than  we  feel  that  it  too  is  unfruitful  in  itself; 
and  that  it  begins  to  yearn,  like  a  young  maiden,  with  strange  de- 
sires for  conjunction  with  some  other  whole  science.  The  two  to- 
gether are  more  than  twice  either;  they  are  three  at  the  very  first; 


APPENDIX.  409 

they  have  a  progeny  which  may  rise  to  any  numbers.  At  the  points 
where  they  unite,  they  must  of  course  fit;  to  fit,  they  must  be  of 
cup  and  ball  construction;  in  other  words,  there  must  be  a  likeness 
or  likingness  between  them,  and  this  likeness,  when  studied,  becomes 
a  science  of  analogies.  When  the  marriages  of  a  dozen  sciences 
have  been  observed,  they  all  begin  to  group  upon  each  other,  and 
the  thought  strikes  us  that  all  the  sciences  fit  to  each,  or  that  analogy 
is  universal.  Everything  likes  everything.  This  sends  our  curiosity 
abroad,  and  we  come  upon  the  thought  of  universal  organization, 
and  then  we  find  that  certain  parts  of  nature,  as  vegetables,  beasts, 
and  men,  are  shining  lights  of  organization;  that  flesh,  for  instance, 
loves  its  parts  so  well,  and  that  they  embrace  so  closely,  that  no- 
thing can  come  between  them  without  pain,  or  destruction.  Thus 
we  only  get  to  individuality  as  the  result  of  a  compact  of  sentient 
beings  whom  God  has  so  closely  linked  in  liking,  that  they  cannot 
be  sundered  without  mischief.  The  scientific  individuality  thus  ob- 
tained, illustrates  our  common  individuality,  and  we  are  constrained 
to  think  is  a  true  statement  of  one  part  of  its  ground. 

From  this  point  our  thoughts  become  organic,  and  we  are  sure  to 
make  organization  or  association  into  a  rule  of  judgment,  and  a 
method  of  discovery;  insisting,  by  faith  and  science,  that  the  whole 
world  is  covertly  what  the  highest  things  in  it  are  manifestly.  We 
have  found  that  the  best  and  most  speaking  bodies  are  disposed  in 
mutual  order  and  helpfulness;  we  dictate  downwards,  from  the 
heights  of  nature,  that  this  is  the  case  with  the  other  parts;  and 
that  their  imperfection  consists  in  nothing  else,  than  the  fact  that 
they  do  not  so  openly  express  the  everlasting  order.  The  plants  are 
poor  timid  things  which  cannot  tell  us  what  they  have  in  them ;  the 
beasts  have  better  voices;  and  mankind  are  different  over  again,  pre- 
cisely according  as  they  can  display  that  association  and  organization 
which  is  the  lesson  of  the  whole.  The  best  men  indeed  are  still 
markedly  individual ;  but  why  ?  Only  because  they  are  the  general 
officers  of  regiments  or  armies,  and  not  because  they  have  no  world 
under  them.  They  are  dependent  on  much  larger  and  broader  bases 
than  other  people.  The  apex  of  the  pyramid  has  a  free  point,  but 
of  all  the  parts,  it  rests  at  last  the  most  heavily  upon  the  ground. 

Knowledge  displays  the  associative  power  in  its  width  not  less 
35 


410  APPENDIX. 

than  in  its  height.  Observe  the  new  light  that  comes  simply  and 
solely  by  putting  things  together!  This  act  constitutes  the  strength 
of  modern  attainments.  A  remarkable  instance  of  it  is  presented 
in  the  law  of  storms,  as  developed  by  Mr.  Redfield  and  Colonel  Eeid. 
In  our  incoherent  days  storms  were  thought  to  be  gusts  more  capri- 
cious than  our  tempers  are  now  thought  to  be.  They  pitched  one 
ship  on  its  beam  ends  to  the  south,  swooped  another  to  the  east,  and 
sucked  down  a  third  into  a  perpendicular  grave.  At  length  came  a 
man,  who  entertained  the  notion,  of  putting  the  bits  of  a  storm  to- 
gether; and  he  soon  found  that  the  pieces  fitted;  that  one  side  of 
the  cup  of  windy  wrath  looked  east;  others,  north,  west  and  south; 
and  that  there  was  a  hollow  in  this,  as  in  other  cups.  The  man 
found  practically  that  a  whole  storm  was  quite  different  from  the 
conception  of  separated  parts,  and  that  it  was  made  up  of  associated 
parts.  He  began  to  think  that  storms  "obey  regular  laws."  The 
world  is  now  beginning  to  think  that  all  things  do  the  same;  and 
will  henceforth  look  down  from  that  summit  which  this  one  hardy 
man,  by  strong  efforts,  gained. 

So  too,  in  physical  geography — a  science  consisting  purely  of  the 
association  of  our  observations  of  the  world  into  one  globe  of  obser- 
vations. How  differently  intelligible  does  the  planet  become  simply 
by  being  all  represented,  and  with  its  parts  in  harmony  with  them- 
selves. And  here  another  blessing  of  associative  over  isolated 
thought  may  be  characterized;  the  former  is  pictorial;  the  latter 
invisible,  and  made  only  of  wandering  points.  So  soon  as  you  get 
fine  surface  knowledge,  picture  is  painted  thereupon;  the  white 
memory  then  puts  itself  down  on  nature's  press,  and  the  soul 
pulls  an  impression,  which  is  durable,  nay,  everlasting,  like  other 
print.  The  imagination  is  the  sharp  type  of  this  very  memory;  and 
man  becomes  thereby  an  everlasting  possessor  of  the  world;  he  takes 
it  with  him  wherever  he  goes;  and  from  its  plans,  in  the  portfolios 
of  his  own  nature,  he  can  govern  the  old  estate,  let  him  be  roaming 
among  the  fixed  stars,  or  safely  moored  in  his  final  kingdom  of  the 
heavens.  We  may  surely  deny  that  the  isolated  thought  has  any 
pretty  pictures  to  show ;  has  anything  in  it  to  remember,  or  can  last 
through  successive  hours;  much  less,  after  death  has  thrown  the 
lumber  away  forever.     Not  so,  however,  the  organic  and  colored 


APPENDIX.  411 

thought  which  is  shelled  off  by  every  thing  when  once  we  see  how 
much  all  things  love  each  other. 

And  is  not  this  to  be  applied  to  practice,  and  to  higher  thought? 
Will  not  man,  when  put  together,  be  found  to  be  the  variegated 
landscape  of  a  new  earth  ?  Will  not  his  chances  then  first  be  deve- 
loped? Will  not  his  problems  become  parts  of  a  pictorial  human 
life,  which  in  point  of  reality,  and  unquestionableness,  will  take 
rank  with  land  and  sea,  with  the  skies,  and  the  verdurous  earth? 
We  dare  not  answer  the  question  in  the  negative,  until  the  experi- 
ment of  association,  successful,  so  far,  in  every  other  sphere,  has 
been  tried  in  this  crowning  matter  of  human  development  and  hap- 
piness. Observe,  however,  that  the  putting  together  of  man,  is  not 
a  mechanical,  but  a  human  or  religious  act. 

Note  to  p.  378. 
It  seems  very  evident  that  disease  has  as  many  centres  in  the 
human  organism,  as  there  are  great  spheres  of  its  powers.  There 
are  diseases  which  spring  from  the  body,  and  others  that  emanate 
from  the  mind.  In  short,  as  there  are  hepatic,  pulmonary  and  ce- 
rebral complaints,  both  idiopathic  and  sympathetic,  so  there  are 
others  of  the  reason,  imagination,  senses,  equally  following  this  two. 
fold  distribution.  It  is  probable  that  disease  can  only  be  cured  by 
attacking  it  in  its  own  centres :  bodily  disease  by  drugs  and  bodily 
means,  and  spiritual  diseases  by  their  appropriate  administrations. 
Thus  where  a  disease  from  the  mind  is  sympathetically  felt  in  the 
body  considered  as  the  extremity  of  the  mind,  phrenopathic  means 
will  cure  it:  but  these  can  only  relieve  the  mental  symptoms,  not 
the  root  of  the  mischief,  if  the  malady  be  primary  in  the  body 
itself. 


THE   END. 


CATALOGUE* 

OF 

VALUABLE    BOOKS, 

PUBLISHED    BY 

LIPPINCOTT,   GRAMBO  &  CO., 

(SUCCESSORS  TO  GRIGG,  ELLIOT  &  CO.) 

NO.  14    NORTH   FOURTH   ST-REET,  FJ?ILA!)ELPJHA; 

CONSISTING  OF  A  LARGE  ASSORTMENT  OF 

Bibles,  Prayer-Books,  Commentaries,  Standard  Poets, 
MEDICAL,  THEOLOGICAL  AND  MISCELLANEOUS  WORKS,  ETC., 

PARTICULARLY    SUITABLE    FOR 

PUBLIC  AND  PRIVATE  LIBRARIES. 

FOR  SALE  BY  BOOKSELLERS  AND  COUNTRY  MERCHANTS  GENERALLY  THROUGH- 
OUT  THE    UNITED    STATES. 

THE  BEST  &  MOST  COMPLETE  FAMILY  COMMENTARY. 
The  Comprehensive  Commentary  on  the  Holy  Bible; 

CONTAINING 

THE  TEXT  ACCORDING  TO  TS'E  AUTHORIZED  VERSION, 

SCOTT'S  MARGINAL  REFERENCES;  MATTHEW  HENRY'S  COMMENTARY. 

CONDENSED,    BUT   RETAINING   EVERY   USEFUL  THOUGHT;  THE 

PRACTICAL  OBSERVATIONS  OF  REV.  THOMAS  SCOTT,  D.  D.  ; 

WITH    EXTENSIVE 

EXPLANATORY,  CRITICAL  AND  PHILOLOGICAL  NOTES, 

Selected  from  Scott,  Doddridge,  Gill,  Adam  Clarke,  Patrick,  Poole,  Lowth, 
Burder,  Harmer,  Calmet,  Rosenmueller,  Bloomfield,  Stuart,  Bush,  Dvvight, 
and  many  other  writers  on  the  Scriptures. 

The  whole  designed  to  be  a  digest  and  combination  of  the  advantages  of 
the  best  Bible  Commentaries,  and  embracing  nearly  all  that  is  valuable  in 

HENRY,  SCOTT,  AND  DODDRIDGE. 

Conveniently  arranged  for  family  and  private  reading,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
particularly  adapted  to  the  wants  of  Sabbath-School  Teachers  and  Bible 
Classes  ;  with  numerous  useful  tables,  and  a  neatly  engraved  Family  Recoru. 

Edited  by  Rev.  William  Jenks,  D.  D.? 

PASTOR  OF  GREEN  STREET  CHURCH,  BOSTON. 

Embellished  with  five  portraits,  and  other  elegant  engravings,  from  steel 

plates ;  with  several  maps  and  many  wood-cuts,  illustrative  of  Scripture 

Manners,  Customs,  Antiquities,  &c.     In  6  vols,  super-royal  8vo. 

Including  Supplement,  bound  in  cloth,  sheep,  calf,  &c,  varying  in 

Price  from  $10  to  $15. 

The  whole  forming  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  the  cheapest  Commentary 

published  in  the  world. 

1 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
NOTICES  AND  RECOMMENDATIONS 

OF    THE 

COMPREHENSIVE  COMMENTARY. 

The  Publishers  select  the  following  from  the  testimonials  they  have  received 
as  to  the  value  of  the  work: 

We,  the  subscribers,  having  examined  the  Comprehensive  Commentary,  issued  from  the  press  of 
Messrs.  L.,  G.  <fc  Co.,  and  highly  approving  its  character,  would  cheerfully  and  confidently  recom- 
mend it  as  containing  more  matter  and  more  advantages  than  any  other  with  which  we  are 
acquainted ;  and  considering  the  expense  incurred,  and  the  excellent  manner  of  its  mechanical 
execution,  we  believe  it  to  be  one  of  the  cheapest  works  ever  issued  from  the  press.  We  hope  the 
publishers  will  be  sustained  by  a  liberal  patronage,  m  their  expensive  and  useful  undertaking.  We 
should  be  pleased  to  learn  that  every  family  in  the  United  States  had  procured  a  copy. 

B.  B.  W1SNER,  D.  D.,  Secretary  of  Am.  Board  of  Com.  for  For.  Missions. 

WM.  COGSWELL,  D.  D.,      "  "    Education  Society. 

JOHN  CODMAN,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Congregational  Church,  Dorchester. 

Rev.  HUBBARD  WINSLOW,  "  "        Bowdom  street,  Dorchester. 

Rev.  SEWALL  HARDING,  Pastor  of  T.  C.  Church,  Waltham. 

Rev.  J.  H.  FAIRCH1LD,  Pastor  of  Congregational  Church.  South  Boston. 

GARDINER  SPRING,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York  city. 

CYKUS  MASON,  D.  D.,  "  "  «  .     .     » 

THOS.  M'AULEY,  D.  D.,  «  mm 

JOHN  WOODBRIDGE,  D.  D.,     -  "  a  u  « 

THOS.  DEW  ITT,  D.  D.,  "  Dutch  Ref.        "  mm 

E.  W.  BALDWIN,  D.  D.,  "  "  u  -  " 

Rev.  J.  M.  M'KREBS,  »  Presbyterian      »  -  " 

Rev.  ERSKINE  MASON,  «  "  "  * 

Rev.  J.  S.  SPENCER,  "  «  «*         Brooklyn. 

EZRA  STILES  ELY,  D.  D.,  Stated  Clerk  of  Gen.  Assem.  of  Presbyterian  Church. 

JOHN  M'DOWELL,  D.  D.,  Permanent  "  "  "  " 

JOHN  BRECKENRIDGE,  Coiresponding  Secretary  of  Assembly's  Board  of  Education. 

SAMUEL  B.  WYLIE,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  Reformed  Presbyterian  Church. 

N.  LORD,  D.  D.,  President  of  Dartmouth  College. 

JOSHUA  BATES,  D.  D.,  President  of  Middlebury  College. 

H.  HUMPHREY,  D.  D.,         "  Amherst  College. 

E.  D.  GRIFFIN,  D.  D.,  "  Williamstown  College. 

.  J.  WHEELER,  D.  D.,  *•  University  of  Vermont,  at  Burlington. 

J.  M.  MATTHEWS,  D.  D.,    "  New  York  City  University. 

GEORGE  E.  PIERCE,  D.  D.,  u  Western  Reserve  College,  Ohio. 

Rev.  Dr.  BROWN,  "  Jefferson  College,  Penn. 

LEONARD  WOODS,  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Theology,  Andover  Seminary. 

THOS.  H.  SKINNER,  D.  D.,       *  Sac.  Rhet.       "  " 

Rev.  RALPH  EMERSON,  "  Eccl.  Hist.        "  " 

Rev.  JOEL  PARKER,  Pastor  of  Presbyterian  Church,  New  Orleana. 

JOEL  HAWES,  D.  D,      "  Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  Conn. 

N.  S.  S.  BEAMAN,  D.  D.,  "  Presbyterian  Church,  Troy,  N.  Y. 

MARK  TUCKER,  D.  D., "  "  " 

Rev.  E.  N.  KIRK,  "  "  Albany,  N.  Y. 

Rev.  E.  B.  EDWARDS,  Editor  of  Quarterly  Observer. 

Rev.  STEPHEN  MASON,  Pastor  First  Congregational  Church,  Nantucket. 

Rev.  OR  IN  FOWLER,  u         "  "  "        Fall  River. 

GEORGE  W.  BETHUNE,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  First  Reformed  Dutch  Church,  Philada. 

Rev.  LYMAN  BEECHER,  D.  D.,  Cincinnati,  Ohio. 

Rev.  C.  D.  MALLORY,  Pastor  Baptist  Church,  Augusta,  Ga. 

Rev.  S.  M.  NOEL,  «  «       Frankfort,  Ky. 

From  the  Professors  at  Princeton  Theological  Seminary. 
The  Comprehensive  Commentary  contains  the  whole  of  Henry's  Exposition  in  a  condensed  form, 
Scott's  Practical  Observations  and  Marginal  References,  and  a  large  number  of  very  valuable  philo- 
logical and  critical  notes,  selected  from  various  authors.  The  work  appears  to  be  executed  with 
judgment,  fidelity,  and  care ;  and  will  furnish  a  rich  treasure  of  scriptural  knowledge  to  the 
Biblical  student,  and  to  the  teachers  of  Sabbath-Schools  and  Bible  Classes. 

A.  ALEXANDER,  D.  D. 
SAMUEL  MILLER,  D.  D. 
CHARLES  HODGE,  D.  D 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

i  Companion  to  \])t  %\b\t. 

In  one   super-royal  volume. 

DESIGNED   TO   ACCOMPANY 

THE  FAMILY  BIBLE, 

OR  HENRY'S,  SCOTT'S,  CLARKE'S,  GILL'S,  OR  OTHER  COMMENTARIES: 

CONTAINING 

1.  A  new,  full,  and  complete  Concordance; 

Illustrated  with  monumental,  traditional,  and  oriental  engravings,  founded  on  Butterworth's,  with 
Cruden's  definitions;  forming,  it  is  believed, on  many  accounts,  a  more  valuable  work  than  either 
Butterworth,  Cruden,  or  any  other  similar  book  in  the  language. 

The  value  of  a  Concordance  is  now  generally  understood;  arid  those  who  have  used  one,  con- 
sider it  indispensable  in  connection  with  the  Bible. 

2.  A  G-uide  to  the  Reading  and  Study  of  the  Bible ; 

being  Carpenter's  valuable  Biblical  Companion,  lately  published  in  London,  containing  a  complete 
history  of  the  Bible,  and  forming  a  most  excellent  introduction  to  its  study.  It  embraces  the  evi- 
dences of  Christianity,  Jewish  antiquities,  manners,  customs,  arts,  natural  history,  <kc,  of  the  Bible, 
with  notes  and  engravings  added. 

3.  Complete  Biographies  of  Henry,  by  Williams;   Scott,  by  his 
son ;  Doddridge,  by  Orton ; 

with  sketches  of  the  lives  and  characters,  and  notices  of  the  works,  of  the  writers  on  the  Scriptures 
Who  are  quoted  m  the  Commentary,  living  and  dead,  American  and  foreign. 

Tlus  part  of  the  volume  not  only  affords  a  large  quantity  of  interesting  and  useful  reading  for 
pious  families,  but  will  also  be  a  source  of  gratification  to  all  those  who  are  in  the  habit  of  consult- 
ing the  Commentary;  every  one  naturally  feeling  a  desire  to  know  some  particulars  of  the  lives  and 
characters  of  those  whose  opinions  he  seek9.    Appended  to  this  part,  will  be  a 

BIBLIOTHECA  BIBLICA, 

or  list  of  the  best  works  on  the  Bible,  of  all  kinds,  arranged  under  their  appropriate  heads. 

4.  A  complete  Index  of  the  Matter  contained  in  the  Bible  Text. 
5.  A  Symbolical  Dictionary. 

A  very  comprehensive  and  valuable  Dictionary  of  Scripture  Symbols,  (occupying  about  fifty-six 
closely  printed  pages,)  by  Thomas  "Wemyss,  (author  of  "Biblical  Gleanings,"  <fcc.)  Comprising 
Daubuz,  Lancaster,  Hutcheson,  &c. 

6.  The  Work  contains  several  other  Articles, 

Indexes,  Tables,  <to.  &c,  and  is, 

7,  Illustrated  by  a  large  Plan  of  Jerusalem, 

identifying,  as  far  as  tradition,  <tc,  go,  the  original  sites,  drawn  on  the  spot  by  F.  Catherwood,  of 
London,  architect.  Also,  two  steel  engravings  of  portraits  of  seven  foreign  and  eight  American 
theological  writers,  and  numerous  wood  engravings. 

The  whole  forms  a  desirable  and  necessary  fund  of  instruction  for  the  use  not  only  of  clergymen 
and  Sabbath-school  teachers,  but  also  for  families.  When  the  great  amount  of  matter  it  must 
contain  is  considered,  it  will  be  deemed  exceedingly  cheap. 

"  I  have  examined  '  The  Companion  to  the  Bible,'  and  have  been  surprised  to  find  so  much  infnrm- 
atinn  introduced  into  a  volume  'if  so  moderate  a  size  It  contains  a  library  of  sacred  knowledge 
and  criticism  It  will  be  useful  tn  minivers  who  own  large  libraries,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  an 
invaluable  help  to  every  reader  of  the  Bible."  HENRY  MORRIS, 

Pastur  of  Congregational  Church,  Vermont. 

The  above  work  can  be  had  in  several  styles  of  binding.    Price  varying 
from  $1  75  to  $5  00. 

3 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

ILLOSTRATIOMS  OF  THE  HOLY  SORIFTOHES, 

In  one  super-royal  volume. 

DERIVED  PRINCIPALLY  FROM  THE  MANNERS,  CUSTOMS,  ANTIQUITIES,  TRADITIONS, 

AND  FORMS  OF  SPEECH,  RITES,  CLIMATE,  WORKS  OF  ART,  AND 

LITERATURE  OF  THE  EASTERN  NATIONS: 

EMBODYING    ALL    THAT    IS    VALUABLE    IN   THE    WORKS    OF 

ROBERTS,  HARIVEER,  BURBER,  PAXTON,  CHANDLER, 

And  the  most  celebrated  oriental  travellers.     Embracing  also  the  Object  of  Che  Fulfilment  of 

Prophecy,  as  exhibited  by  Keith  and  others;  with  descriptions  of  the  present  state 

of  countries  and  places  mentioned  in   the   Sacred   Writings. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  NUMEROUS  LANDSCAPE  ENGRAVINGS, 

FROM  8KETCUES  TAKEN  ON  THE  SPOT. 

Edited  by  llev.  George  Bush, 

Professor  of  Hebrew  and  Oriental  Literature  in  the  New  York  City  University. 

The  importance  of  this  work  must  be  obvious,  and,  being  altogether  ilJustratrvt,  without  reference 
to  doctrines,  or  other  points  in  which  Christians  differ,  it  is  hoped  it  will  meet  with  favour  from  all 
who  love  Che  sacred  volume,  and  that  it  will  be  sufficiently  interesting  and  attractive  to  recommend 
itself,  not  only  to  professed  Christians  of  all  denominations,  but  also  to  the  general  reader.  The 
arrangement  of  the  texts  illustrated  with  the  notes,  in  the  order  of  the  chapters  and  verses  of  the 
authorized  version  of  the  Bible,  will  render  it  convenient  for  reference  to  particular  passages; 
while  the  copious  Index  at  the  end  will  at  once  enable  the  reader  to  turn  to  every  subject  discussed 
in  the  volume. 

This  volume  is  not  designed  to  take  the  place  of  Commentaries,  but  is  a  distinct  department  of  biblical 
instruction,  and  may  <'<c  used  as  a  companion  to  the  Comprehensive  or  any  other  Commentary,  or  the 
Holy  Bible. 

THE  ENGRAVINGS 

tn  this  volume,  it  is  believed,  will  form  no  small  part  of  its  attractions.  No  pains  have  been  spared 
to  procure  such  as  should  embellish  the  work,  and,  at  the  same  time,  illustrate  the  text.  Objec- 
tions that  have  been  made  to  the  pictures  commonly  introduced  into  the  Bible,  as  being  mere  crea- 
tions of  fancy  and  the  imagination,  ollen  unlike  nature,  and  frequently  conveying  false  impressions, 
cannot  be  urged  against  the  pictorial  illustrations  of  this  volume  Here  the  fine  arts  are  made 
subservient  to  utility,  the  landscape  views  being,  without  an  exception,  matter-of-fact  views  of  places 
mentioned  in  Scripture,  as  they  appear  at  the  present  day ,  thus  m  many  instances  exhibiting,  in  the 
most  forcible  manner,  to  the  eye,  the  strict  and  literal  fulfilment  of  the  remarkable  prophecies;  "the 
present  ruined  and  desolate  condition  of  the  cities  of  Babylon,  Nineveh,  Selah.  Ac,  and  the  coun- 
tries of  Echini  and  Egypt,  are  astonishing  examples,  and  no  completely  exemplify,  in  the  most 
minute  particulars,  every  thing  which  was  foretold  of  them  in  the  height  of  their  prosperity,  that 
no  »»etter  description  can  now  t«j  given  of  them  than  a  simple  quotation  from  a  chapter  and  verse 
of  the  Bible  written  nearly  two  or  three  thousand  years  ago  "  The  publishers  are  enabled  to  select 
from  several  collections  lately  published  in  London,  the  proprietor  of  one  of  which  says  that  "seve- 
ral distinguished  travellers  have  afforded  him  the  use  of  nearly  Three  Hundred  Original  Sketches'" 
of  Scripture  places,  made  upon  the  spot.  "  The  land  of  Palestine,  it  is  well  known,  abounds  in 
scenes  of  the  most  picturesque  beauty.  Syria  comprehends  the  snowy  heights  of  Lebanon,  and  the 
majestic  ruins  of  Tadmor  and  Baalbec." 
The  above  work  can  be  had  in  various  styles  of  binding. 

Price  from  $1  50  to  $5  00. 

THE  ILLUSTRATED  CONCORDANCE, 

In  one  volume,  royal  8vo. 

A  new,  full,  and  complete  Concordance ;  illustrated  with  monumental,  traditional,  and  oriental 
engravings,  founded  on  Butterworth's,  with  Cruden's  definitions;  forming,  it  is  believed,  on  many 
accounts,  a  more  valuable  work  than  either  Butterworth,  Cruden,  or  any  other  similar  book  in  the 
language. 

The  value  of  a  Concordance  is  now  generally  understood  ;  and  those  who  have  used  one,  con- 
sider it  indispensable  in  connection  with  the  Bible  Some  of  the  many  advantages  the  Illustrated 
Concordance  has  over  all  the  others,  are.  that  it  <N«iit;uiis  near  two  hundred  appropriate  engravings  \ 
it  is  printed  on  line  white  paper,  with  beautiful  large  type. 

Price  One  Dollar. 

\  4 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITION  OF 

BAGSTER'S  COMPREHENSIVE  BIBLE. 

In  order  to  develope  the  peculiar  nature  of  the  Comprehensive  Bible,  it  will  only  be  necessary 
to  embrace  its  more  prominent  features. 

1st.  The  SACRED  TEXT  is  that  of  the  Authorized  Version,  and  is  printed  from  the  edition  cor- 
rected and  improved  by  Dr.  Blaney,  which,  from  its  accuracy,  is  considered  the  standard  edition. 

2d.  The  VARIOUS  READINGS  are  faithfully  printed  from  the  edition  of  Dr.  Blaney,  inclusive 
of  the  translation  of  the  proper  names,  without  the  addition  or  diminution  of  one. 

3d.  In  the  CHRONOLOGY,  great  care  has  been  taken  to  fix  the  date  of  the  particular  transao 
tions,  which  has  seldom  been  done  with  any  degree  of  exactness  in  any  former  edition  of  the  Bible. 

4th.  The  NOTES  are  exclusively  philological  and  explanatory,  and  are  not  tinctured  with  senti- 
ments of  any  sect  or  party.  They  are  selected  from  the  most  eminent  Biblical  critics  and  com- 
mentators. 

It  is  hoped  that  this  edition  of  the  Holy  Bible  will  be  found  to  contain  the  essence  of  Biblical 
research  and  criticism,  that  lies  dispersed  through  an  immense  number  of  volumes. 

Such  is  the  nature  and  design  of  this  edition  of  the  Sacred  Volume,  which,  from  the  various 
objects  it  embraces,  the  freedom  of  its  pages  from  all  sectarian  peculiarities,  and  the  beauty,  plain- 
ness, and  correctness  of  the  typography,  that  it  cannot  fail  of  proving  acceptable  and  useful  to 
Christians  of  every  denomination. 

In  addition  to  the  usual  references  to  parallel  passages,  which  are  quite  full  and  numerous,  the 
Btudent  has  all  the  marginal  readings,  together  with  a  rich  selection  of  Philological,  Critical,  Histo- 
rical, Geographical,  and  ether  valuable  notes  and  remarks,  which  explain  and  illustrate  the  sacred 
text.  Besides  the  general  introduction,  containing  valuable  essays  on  the  genuineness,  authenticity, 
and  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  other  topics  of  interest,  there  are  introductory  and  con- 
cluding remarks  to  each  book— a  table  of  the  contents  of  the  Bible,  by  which  the  different  portions 
are  so  arranged  as  to  read  in  an  historical  order. 

Arranged  at  the  top  of  each  page  is  the  period  in  which  the  prominent  events  of  sacred  history 
took  place.  The  calculations  are  made  for  the  year  of  the  world  before  and  after  Christ,  Julian 
Period,  the  year  of  the  Olympiad,  the  year  of  the  building  of  Rome,  and  other  notations  of  time. 
At  the  close  is  inserted  a  Chronological  Index  of  the  Bible,  according  to  the  computation  of  Arch- 
bishop Ussher.  Also,  a  full  and  valuable  index  of  the  subjects  contained  in  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments, with  a  careful  analysis  and  arrangement  of  texts  under  their  appropriate  subjects. 

Mr.  Greenfield,  the  editor  of  this  work,  and  for  some  time  previous  to  his  death  the  superintend- 
ent of  the  editorial  department  of  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,  was  a  most  extraordinary 
man.  In  editing  the  Comprehensive  Bible,  his  varied  and  extensive  learning  was  called  into  suc- 
cessful exercise,  and  appears  in  happy  combination  with  sincere  piety  and  a  sound  judgment.  The 
Editor  of  the  Christian  Observer,  alluding  to  this  work,  in  an  obituary  notice  of  its  author,  speaks 
of  it  as  a  work  of  "  prodigious  labour  and  research,  at  once  exhibiting  his  varied  talents  and  pro- 
found erudition." 


LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITION  OF 

THE  OIFORD  QUARTO  BIBLE. 

The  Publishers  have  spared  neither  care  nor  expense  in  their  edition  of  the  Bible;  it  is  printed 
en  the  finest  white  vellum  paper,  with  large  and  beautiful  type,  and  bound  in  the  most  substantial 
and  splendid  manner,  in  the  following  styles :  Velvet,  with,  richly  gilt  ornaments ;  Turkey  super 
extra,  with  gilt  clasps ;  and  in  numerous  others,  to  suit  the  taste  of  the  most  fastidious. 

OPINIONS    OF   THE   PRESS. 

"In  our  opinion,  the  Christian  public  generally  will  feel  under  great  obligations  to  the  publishers 
of  this  work  for  the  beautiful  tasie.  arrangement,  and  delicate  neatness  with  which  they  have  got 
it  out.  The  intrinsic  merit  of  the  Bible  recommends  itsdf;  it  needs  no  tinsel  ornament  to  adorn 
its  sacred  pages.  In  this  edition  every  .superfluous  ornament  has  been  avoided,  and  we  have  pre- 
sented us  a  perfectly  chaste  specimen  of  the  Bible,  without  note  or  comment.  It  appears  to  be  just 
what  is  needed  in  every  family — 'the  unsophisticated  word  of  God.' 

"The  size  is  quarto,  printed  with  beautiful  type, on  white, sized  vellum  paper.of  the  finest  texture 
and  most  beautiful  surface.  The  publishers  seem  to  have  been  solicitous  to  make  a  perfectly 
unique  book,  and  they  have  ai  lie  object  very  successfully.     V\"e  trust  that  a  liberal 

community  will  afford  them  anfple  remuneration  for  all  the  expense  and  outlay  they  have  neccssa- 
rilv  incurred  in  its  publication.     It  is  a  standard  Bible. 

'"'  The  publishers  are  Messrs.  Lippineott,  Grarnbo  &.  Co.,  No.  14  North  Fourth  street,  Philadel- 
phia." —  Baptist  Record. 

"A  oeautiful  quarto  edition  of  the  Bible,  by  L.,  G.  <fc  Co.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  type  in  clear 
ness  and  beauty;  the  paper  is  of  the  finest  texture,  and  the  whole  execution  is  exceedingly  neat. 
No  illustrations  or  ornamental  type  are  used.  Those  who  prefer  a  Bible  executed  m  perfect  sim- 
plicity, yet  elegance  of  style,  without  adornment,  will  probably  uever  find  oue  more  to  their  tasta  " 
—  M.  Magarine. 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 
LIPPINCOTT'S  EDITIONS  OF 

THE   HOLY   BIBLE. 

SIX  DIFFERENT  SIZES, 

Printed  in  the  best  manner,  with  beautiful  type,  on  the  finest  sized  paper,  and  bound  in  the  most 
splendid  and  substantial  styles.  Warranted  to  be  correct,  and  equal  to  the  best  English  editions,  at 
much  less  price.  To  be  had  with  or  without  plates ;  the  publishers  having  supplied  themselves  with 
over  fifty  steel  engravings,  by  the  first  artists. 

Baxter's  Comprehensive  Bible, 

Royal  quarto,  containing  the  various  readings  and  marginal  notes ;  disquisitions  on  the  genuineness, 
authenticity,  and  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Scriptures;  introductory  and  concluding  remarks  to  each 
book;  philological  and  explanatory  notes  ;  table  of  contents,  arranged  in  historical  order;  a  chro- 
nological index,  and-various  other  matter ;  fornung  a  suitable  book  for  the  study  of  clergymen, 
Sabbath-school  teachers,  and  students. 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  $4  00  to  $5  00.  —In  Turkey  morocco,  extra,  gilt  edges,  from  $8  00  to 
$12  00.  —In  do.,  with  splendid  plates.  $10  00  to  $15  00.  —In  do.,  beveled  side,  gilt  clasps  and  illu- 
minations, $15  00  to  $25  00. 

The  Oxford  Quarto  Bible, 

Without  note  or  comment,  universally  admitted  to  be  the  most  beautiful  Bible  extant. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  $4  CKI  to  $5  00.  —  In  Turkey  morocco,  extra,  gilt  edges,  $8  00  to  $12  00. 
—  In  do.,  with  steel  engravings,  $10  00  to  $15  00.  —  In  do.,  clasps,  4c,  with  plates  and  illumina- 
tions, $15  00  to  $25  00.  — In  rich  velvet,  with  gilt  ornaments,  $25  00  to  $50  00. 

Crown  Octavo  Bible, 

Printed  with  large  clear  type,  making  a  most  convenient  hand  Bible  for  family  use. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  75  cents  to  $1  50.  —  In  English  Turkey  morocco,  gilt  edges,  $1  00  to 
12  00.  — In  do.,  imitation,  &c,  $1  50  to  S3  00.  —  In  do.,  clasps,  &c,  $2  50  to  $5  00.  — In  rich  velvet, 
with  gilt  ornaments,  $5  00  to  $10  00. 

The  Sunday-School  Teacher's  Polyglot  Bible,  with  Maps,  &c, 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  60  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  imitation  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —In  Turkey, 
super  extra,  SI  75  to  $2  25.  — In  do.  do.,  with  clasps,  $2  50  to  $3  75.  — In  velvet,  rich  gilt  orna- 
ments, $3  50  to  $8  00. 

The  Oxford  18mo.,  or  Pew  Bible, 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  50  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  imitation  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  In  Turkey, 
super  extra,  $1  75  to  $2  25.  —  In  do.  do.,  with  clasps.  $2  60  to  $3  75. — In  velvet,  rich  gilt  orna- 
ments, $3  50  to  $8  00. 

Agate  32mo.  Bible, 

Printed  with  larger  type  than  any  other  small  or  pocket  edition  extant. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  50  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  tucks,  or  poefcet-book  style,  75  cents  to  $1  00.— 
In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  In  Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  00  to  $2  00.  —  In  do.  do., 
gilt  clasps,  $2  50  to  $3  50.  —  In  velvet,  with  rich  gilt  ornaments,  $3  00  to  $7  00. 

32mo.  Diamond  Pocket  Bible; 

The  neatest,  smallest,  and  cheapest  edition  of  the  Bible  published 
In  neat  r>lain  binding,  from  30  to  50  cents.  —In  tucks,  or  pocket-book  style,  60  cents  to  SI  00.— 
In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  75  cents  to  $1  25.  —  In  Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  In  do.  do., 
gilt  clasps,  $1  50  to  $2  00.  — In  velvet,  with  richly  gilt  ornaments,  $2  50  to  $6  00. 

CONSTANTLY   ON   HAND, 
A  targe  assortment  of  BIBLES,  hound  in  the  most  splendid  and  costly  styles,  with  gold  and  silver 
ornaments,  suitable  for  presentation ;  ranging  in  price  from  $10  00  to  $100  00. 
A  liberal  discount  made  to  Booksellers  and  Agents  by  the  Publishers. 

ENCYCLOPEDIA  OF  RELIGIOUS  KNOWLEDGE; 

OL,  DICTIONARY  OF  THE  BIBLE,  THEOLOGY,  RELIGIOUS  BIOGRAPHY,  ALL  RELIGIONS, 
ECCLESIASTICAL  HISTORY,  AND  MISSIONS. 
Designed  as  a  complete  Book  of  Reference  on  all  Religions  Subjects,  and  Companion  to  the  Bible; 
lorming  a  cheap  and  compact  Library  of  Religious  Knowledge.  Edited  by  Rev.  J.  Newton  Brown. 
Illustrated  by  wood-cuts,  maps,  and  engravings  on  copper  and  steel.  In  one  volume,  royal  8vo. 
Price,  S-4  00. 

6 


LIPPINCOTT,  GHAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Lippincott's  Standard  Editions  of 

THE  BOOK  OF  COMMON  PRAYER. 

IN   SIX   DIFFERENT  SIZES, 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  A  NUMBER  OF  STEEL  PLATES  AND  ILLUMINATIONS. 

COMPREHENDING    THE    MOST    VARIED     AND    SPLENDID     ASSORTMENT    IN    THE 

UNITED    STATES. 


THE  ILLUMINATED  OCTAVO  PRAYER-BOOK, 

Printed  in  seventeen  different  colours  of  ink,  and  illustrated  with  a  number  of  Steel  Plates  and 
Illuminations;  making  one  of  the  most  splendid  books  published.  To  be  had  in  any  variety  of  the 
most  superb  binding,  ranging  in  prices. 

In  Turkey,  super  extra,  from  85  00  to  $8  00.  — In  do.  do.,  with  clasps,  86  00  to  $10  00—  In  do. 
do.,  bevelled  and  panelled  edges,  $8  00  to  S15  00.  — In  velvet,  richly  ornamented,  $12  00  to  $20  00. 

8vo. 

In  neat  plain  binding,  from  $1  50  to  $2  00.  —  In  imitation  silt  edge,  $2  00  to  $3  00.  —In  Turkey, 
super  extra,  $2  50  to  $4  50.  — In  do.  do.,  with  clasps,  S3  00  to  $5  00.  —  In  velvet,  richly  gilt  orna- 
ments, $5  00  to  $12  00. 

1  6mo. 

Printed  throughout  with  lar-re  and  elegant  type. 
In  neat  plain  binding,  from  75  rents  to  SI  50. —  In  Turkey  morocco,  extra,  with  plates,  $1  75  to 
$3  00. —In  do.  do.,  with  plates,  clasps,  ic,  $2  50  to  $5  00.  — In  velvet,  with  riclily  gilt  ornaments, 
$4  00  to  $9  00. 

18mo. 

In  neat  plain  binding:,  from  25  to  75  cents.  —In  Turkey  morocco,  with  plates,  $1  25  to  $2  00.  — Id 
velvet,  with  richly  gilt  ornaments,  $3  00  to  $8  00. 

32mo. 

A  beautiful  Pocket  Edition,  with  large  type. 
In  neat  plain  binding;,  from  50  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  75  cents  to  $1  50.  —  In 
Turkey,  super  extra,  $  1  25  to  82  00.  —  In  do.  do.,  gilt  clasps,  $2  00  to  $3  00.  —  hi  velvet,  with  richly 
gilt  ornaments,  $3  00  to  $7  00. 


32mo.,  Pearl  type. 


In  plain  binding,  from  25  to  37  1-2  cents.  —  Roan,  37"  1-2  to  50  cents.  —Imitation  Turkey,  50  cent* 
to  $1  00.  — Turkey,  super  extra,  with  gilt  edge,  $1  00  to  $1  50.  —  Pocket-book  style,  60  to  75  cents. 

PROPER  LESSONS. 

18mo. 

A     BEAUTIFUL    EDITION,    WITH     LARGE    TYPE. 
In  neat  plain  binding-,  from  50  cents  to  $1  00.  —  In  roan,  imitation  gilt  edge,  75  cents  to  81  50. — In 
Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  50  to  $2  00.  —  In  do.  do.,  gilt  clasps,  $2  50  to  $3  00.  —  In  velvet,  with  richly 
gilt  ornaments,  S3  00  to  $7  00. 

THE   BI3LE   AND   PRAYER-BOOK, 

In  one  neat  and  portable  volume. 

32mo.,  in  neat  plain  binding,  from  75  cents  to  $1  00. —  In  imitation  Turkey,  SI  00  to  $1  50.— In 
Turkey,  super  extra,  $1  50  to  $2  50. 

18mo,  in  large  type,  plain,  $1  75  to  S2  50. —In  imitation,  SI  00  to  $1  75.— In  Turkey,  super 
extra,  $1  75  to  S3  00.    Also,  with  clasps,  velvet,  <fcc.  <fcc. 

The  Errors  of  Modern  Infidelity  Illustrated  and  Refuted. 

BY  S.  BS.  SCHr»IUCKZR,  A.  2VL 

In  one  volume,  12mo. ;  cloth.     Just  published. 

We  cannot  but  regard   this  work.  ::■  *  we  view  it  in  reference  to  its  design,  as  one 

of  the  must  masterly  productions  .>!'  the  aire,  and  fitted  to  npfool  oae  of  the  mnsl  fondly  cherished 
and  dangerous  of  all  ancient  or  modern  errors.  God  must  bless  snch"  a  work,  armed  with  his  own 
truth,  and  doing  fierce  and  successful  battle  against  black  infidelity,  which  would  bring  His  Majesty 
and  Word  down  to  the  tribunal  of  human  reason,  for  condemnation  and  annihilation.— Alb.  Spectator 


LIPPINCOTT,  GEAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

Chrgi]  of  Simmra: 

CONSISTING   OF 

ANECDOTES  ILLUSTRATIVE  OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  MINISTERS  OF  RELI- 
GION IN  THE  UNITED  STATES, 
BY   JOSEPH  BELCHER,   D.D., 
Editor  of  "The  Complete  Works  of  Andrew  Fuller,"  "Robert  Hall,"  &c. 

"This  very  interesting  and  instructive  collection  of  pleasing  and  solemn  remembrances  of  many 
pious  men,  illustrates  the  character  of  the  day  in  which  they  lived,  and  defines  the  men  more 
clearly  than  very  elaborate  essays." — Baltimore  American. 

"  We  regard  the  collection  as  highly  interesting,  and  judiciously  made."—  Presbyterian. 


JQSEPHUS'S  (FLAVIUS)  WORKS, 

FAMILY    EDITION. 
BIT  THE  LATE  WZIiLJAXKE  WHISTON,  A.  I¥l. 

FROM  THE  LAST  LONDON  EDITION,  COMPLETE. 

One  volume,  beautifully  illustrated  with  Steel  Plates,  and  the  only  readable  edition 

published  in  this  country. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  every  family  in  our  country  has  a  copy  of  the  Holy  Bible ;  and  as  the  pre- 
sumption is  that  the  greater  portion  often  consult  its  pages,  we  take  the  liberty  of  saying  to  all  those 
that  do.  that  the  perusal  of  the  writings  of  Josephus  will  be  found  very  interesting  and  instructive. 

All  those  who  wish  to  possess  a  beautiful  and  correct  copy  of  this  valuable  work,  would  do  well 
to  purchase  this  edition.  It  is  for  sale  at  all  the  principal  bookstores  in  the  United  States,  and  by 
country  merchants  generally  in  the  Southern  and  Western  States. 

Also,  the  above  work  in  two  volumes. 


BURDER'S  VILLAGE  SERMONS; 

Or,  101  Plain  and  Short  Discourses  on  the  Principal  Doctrines  of  the  Gospel. 

INTENDED   FOR  THE    USE  OP  FAMILIES,  SUNDAY-SCHOOLS,  OR  COMPANIES  ASSEM- 
BLED FOR  RELIGIOUS  INSTRUCTION  IN  COUNTRY  VILLAGES. 

BY    GEORGE    BURDER. 
To  which  is  added  to  each  Sermon,  a  Short  Prayer,  with  some  General  Prayers  for  Families, 
Schools,  &.C.,  at  the  end  of  the  work. 
COMPLETE     IN     ONE     VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 
These  sermons,  which  are  characterized  by  a  beautiful  simplicity,  the  entire  absence  of  contro- 
versy, and  a  true  evangelical  spirit,  have  gone  through  many  and  large  editions,  and  been  translated 
into  several  of  the  continental  languages.     "  They  have  also  been  the  honoured  means  not  only  of 
converting  many  individuals,  but  also  of  introducing  the  Gospel  iuto  districts,  and  even  into  parish 
churches,  where  before  it  was  comparatively  unknown." 
"This  work  fully  deserves  the  immortality  it  has  attained." 

This  is  a  fine  library  edition  of  this  invaluable  work ;  and  when  we  say  that  it  should  be  found  in 
the  possession  of  every  family,  we  only  reiterate  the  sentiments  and  sincere  wishes  of  all  mvho  take 
a  deep  interest  in  the  eternal  welfare  of  mankind. 


FAMILY   PRAYEUS   AND   HYMNS, 

ADAPTED  TO  FAMILY  WORSHIP, 

TABLES  FOR  THE  REGULAR  READIN6  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES. 

By  Rev.  S.  C.  Winchester,  A.  M., 

Late  Pastor  of  the  Sixth  Presbyterian  Church,  Philadelphia ;    and  the   Presbyterian  Church  at 
v  Natchez,  Miss. 

One   volume,    12mo. 

s 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


SPLENDID  LIBRARY  EDITIONS. 


ILLUSTRATED  STANDARD  POETS. 

ELEGANTLY   PRINTED,  ON   FINE   PAPER,  AND    UNIFORM   IN   SIZE   AND 

STYLE. 


The  following  Editions  of  Standard  British  Poets  are  illustrated  with  numerous  Sieel 
Engravings,  and  may  be  had  in  all  varieties  of  binding. 

BYRON'S  WORKS. 

COMPLETE   IN   ONE   VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 

INCLUDING  ALL  HIS  SUPPRESSED  AND  ATTRIBUTED  POEMS ;  WITH  SIX  BEAUTIFUL 
ENGRAVINGS. 
This  edition  has  been  carefully  compared  with  the  recent  London  edition  of  Mr.  Murray,  and 
made  complete  by  the  addition  of  more  than  fifty  pages  of  poems  heretofore  unpublished  in  Eng- 
land. Among  these  there  are  a  number  that  have  never  appeared  in  any  American  edition ;  and 
the  publishers  believe  they  are  warranted  in  saying  that  this  is  the  most  complete  edition  of  Lord 
Byron's  Poetical  Works  ever  published  in  the  United  States. 


t  fmllml  tBorfe  of  Mw.  Mimm, 

Complete  in  one  volume,  octavo ;  with  seven  beautiful  Engravings. 

This  is  a  new  and  complete  edition,  with  a  splendid  engraved  likeness  of  Mrs.  Hemans,  on  steeL 
and  contains  all  the  Poems  in  the  last  London  and  American  editions.  With  a  Critical  Preface  by 
Mr.  Thatcher,  of  Boston. 

"As  no  work  in  the  English  language  can  be  commended  with  more  confidence,  it  will  argue  bad 
taste  in  a  female  in  this  country  to  be  without  a  complete  edition  of  the  writings  of  one  who  was 
an  honour  to  her  sex  and  to  humanity,  and  whose  productions,  from  first  to  last,  contain  no  syllable 
calculated  to  call  a  blush  to  the  cheek  of  modesty  and  virtue.  There  is,  moreover,  in  Mrs.  Hemans's 
poetry,  a  moral  purity  and  a  religious  feeling  which  commend  it,  in  an  especial  manner,  to  the  dis- 
criminating reader.  No  parent  or  guardian  will  be  under  the  necessity  of  imposing  restrictions 
with  regard  to  the  free  perusal  of  every  production  emanating  from  this  gifted  woman.  There 
breathes  throughout  the  whole  a  most  eminent  exemption  from  impropriety  of  thought  or  diction ; 
and  there  is  at  times  a  pensiveness  of  tone,  a  winning  sadness  in  her  more  serious  compositions, 
which  tells  of  a  soul  which  has  been  lifted  from  the  contemplation  of  terrestrial  things,  to  dTvine 
Bommunings  with  beings  of  a  purer  world." 

MILTON,  YOUNG,  GRAY,  BEATTIE,  AND  COLLINS'S 
POETICAL  WORKS. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,   OCTAVO. 
WITH   SIX   BEAUTIFUL   ENGRAVINGS. 


COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,  OCTAVO. 

Including  two  hundred  and  fifty  Letters,  and  sundry  Poems  of  Cowper,  never  before  published  in 

this  country ;  and  of  Thomson  a  new  and  interesting  Memoir,  and  upwards  of  twenty 

new  Poems,  for  the  first  time  printed  from  his  own  Manuscripts,  taken  from 

a  late  Edition  of  the  Aldine  Poets,  now  publishing  in  London. 
WITH  SEVEN  BEAUTIFUL  ENGRAVINGS. 
The  distinguished  Professor  Silliman,  speaking  of  this  edition,  observes :  "lam  as  much  gratified 
by  the  elegance  and  fine  taste  of  your  edition,  as  by  the  noble  tribute  of  genius  and  moral  excel- 
lence which  these  delightful  authors  have  left  for  all  future  generations  ;  and  Cowper,  especially, 
is  not  less  conspicuous  as  a  true  Christian,  moralist  and  teacher,  than  as  a  poet  of  great  power  and 
exquisite  taste." 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  ROGERS,  CAMPBELL,  MONTGOMERY, 
LAMB,  AND  KIRKE  WHITE. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE   VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 
WITH    SIX    BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVINGS. 

The  beauty,  correctness,  and  convenience  of  this  favourite  edition  of  these  standard  authors  are 
so  well  known,  that  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  add  a  word  in  its  favour.  It  is  only  necessary  to  say, 
that  the  publishers  have  now  issued  an  illustrated  edition,  which  greatly  enhances  its  former  value. 
The  engravings  are  excellent  and  well  selected.    It  is  the  best  library  edition  extant. 


CKABBE,  HEBER,  AND  POLLOK'S  POETICAL  WORKS. 

COMPLETE    IN    ONE    VOLUME,   OCTAVO. 
WITH    SIX   BEAUTIFUL    ENGRAVINGS. 

A  writer  in  the  Boston  Traveller  holds  the  following  language  with  reference  to  these  valuable 
editions : — 

"Mr.  Editor: — I  wish,  without  any  idea  of  puffing,  to  say  a  word  or  two  upon  the  'Library  of 
English  Poets'  that  is  now  published  at  Philadelphia,  by  Lippincott,  Grambo  &  Co.  It  is  certainly, 
takm?  into  consideration  the  elegant  manner  in  which  it  is  printed,  and  the  reasonable  price  at 
winch  it  is  afforded  to  purchasers,  the  best  edition  of  the  modern  British  Poets  that  has  ever  been 
published  in  this  country.  Each  volume  is  an  octavo  of  about  500  pages,  double  columns,  stereo- 
typed, and  accompanied  with  fine  engravings  and  biographical  sketches ;  and  most  of  them  are 
reprinted  from  Galignani's  French  edition.  As  to  its  value,  we  need  only  mention  that  it  contains 
the  entire  works  of  Montgomery,  Gray,  Beattie,  Collins,  Byron,  Cowper,  Thomson,  Milton,  Young, 
Rogers,  Campbell,  Lamb,  Hemans,  Heber,  Kirke  White,  Crabbe,  the  Miscellaneous  Works  of  Gold- 
smith, and  other  masters  of  the  lyre.  The  publishers  are  doing  a  great  service  by  their  publication, 
and  their  volumes  are  almost  in  as  great  demand  as  the  fashionable  novels  of  the  day;  and  they 
deserve  to  be  so :  for  they  are  certainly  printed  in  a  style  superior  to  that  in  which  we  have  before 
had  the  works  of  the  English  Poets." 

No  library  can  be  considered  complete  without  a  copy  of  the  above  beautiful  and  cheap  editions 
of  the  English  Poets ;  and  persons  ordering  all  or  any  of  them,  will  please  say  Lippincott,  Grambo 
&.  Co.'s  illustrated  editions. 


A    COMPLETE 

lirfionnrt]  of  |kftrnl  tofafinrm: 

COMPRISING   THE  MOST  EXCELLENT  AND  APPROPRIATE  PASSAGES  IN 
THE  OLD  BRITISH  POETS;  WITH  CHOICE  AND  COPIOUS  SELEC- 
TIONS FROM  THE  BEST  MODERN  BRITISH  AND 
AMERICAN  POETS. 
EDITED    BY    SARAH    JOSEPHA   HALE. 
As  nightingales  do  upon  glow-worms  feed, 
So  poets  live  upon  the  living  light 
Of  Nature  and  of  Beauty. 

Bailey's  Festus. 

Beautifully  illustrated  with  Engravings.     In  one  super-royal  octavo  volume,  in  various 

bindings. 

The  publishers  extract,  from  the  many  highly  complimentary  notices  of  the  above  valuable  and 
beautiful  work,  the  following: 

"  We  have  at  last  a  volume  of  Poetical  Quotations  worthy  of  the  name.  It  contains  nearly  six 
hundred  octavo  pases,  carefully  and  tastefully  selected  from  all  the  home  end  foreign  authors  of 
celebrity.  It  is  invaluable  to  a  writer,  while  to  the  ordinary  reader  it  presents  every  subject  at  a 
glance." — Godej/'s  Lady's  Book. 

"The  plan  or  idea  of  Mrs  Hide's  work  is  felicitous.  It  is  one  for  which  her  fine  taste,  her  orderly 
habits  of  muni,  and  her  lone:  occupation  with  literature,  has  given  her  peculiar  facilities;  and  tho- 
roughly has  she  accomplished  her  task  in  the  work  before  us."  —  Sartain's  Magazine. 

"It  is  a  choice  collection  of  poetical  extracts  from  every  English  and  American  author  worth 
perusing,  from  the  days  of  Chaucer  to  the  present  time."  —  Washington  Union. 

"  There  is  nothing  negative  about  this  work ;  it  is  positively  good."—  Evening  Bulletin. 


10 


LIPHNCOTT,  GKAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  DIAMOND  EDITION  OF  BYRON. 


THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  LORD  BYRON, 

"WITH   A    SKETCH    OF    KIS   LIFE. 
COMPLETE   IN    ONE   NEAT   DUODECIMO   VOLUME,  WITH    STEEL   PLATES. 

The  type  of  this  edition  is  so  perfect,  and  it  is  printed  with  so  much  care,  on  fine  white  paper, 
that  it  can  be  read  with  as  much  ease  as  most  of  the  larger  editions.  This  work  is  to  be  had  in 
plain  and  superb  binding,  making  a  beautiful  volume  for  a  gift. 

"  The  Poetical  Works  of  Lord  Byron,  complete  in  one  volume  ;  published  by  L.,  G.  &  Co..  Phila- 
delphia. We  hazard  nothing  in  saying  that,  take  it  altogether,  this  is  the  most  elegant  work  ever 
issued  from  the  American  press. 

"'  In  a  single  volume,  not  larger  than  an  ordinary  duodecimo,  the  publishers  have  embraced  the 
whole  of  Lord  Byron's  Poems,  usually  printed  in  ten  or  twelve  volumes;  and,  what  is  more  remark- 
able, have  done  it  with  a  type  so  clear  and  distinct,  that,  notwithstanding  its  necessarily  small  size, 
it  may  be  read  with  the  utmost  facility,  even  by  failing  eyes.  The  book  is  stereotyped  ;  and  never 
have  we  seen  a  finer  specimen  of  that  art.  Everything  about  it  is  perfect  — the  paper,  the  print- 
ing, the  binding,  all  correspond  with  each  other ;  and  it  is  embellished  with  two  fine  engravings, 
well  worthy  the  companionship  in  which  they  are  placed. 

"•This  will  make  a  beautiful  Christmas  present.' 

"  We  extract  the  above  from  Gudey's  Lady's  Book.  The  notice  itself,  we  are  given  to  understand, 
is  written  by  Mrs.  Hale. 

"  We  have  to  add  our  commendation  in  favour  of  this  beautiful  volume,  a  copv  of  which  has 
been  sent  us  by  the  publishers.  The  admirers  of  the  noble  hard  will  feel  obliged  to  the  enterprise 
winch  has  prompted  the  publishers  to  dare  a  competition  with  the  numerous  editions  of  his  works 
already  m  circulation;  and  we  shall  be  surprised  if  this  convenient  travelling  edition  does  not  in  a 
great  degree  supersede  the  use  of  the  large  octavo  works,  which  have  little  advantage  in  size  ami 
openness  of  type,  and  are  much  inferior  in  the  qualities  of  portability  and  lightness."  —  Intelligencer. 


THE  DIAMOND   EDITION  OF  MOORE. 

(CORRESPONDING   WITH    BYRON.) 


THE  POETICAL  WORKS  OF  THOMAS  MOORE, 

COLLECTED  BY  HIMSELF. 

COMPLETE    IN  ONE  VOLUME. 

This  work  is  published  uniform  with  Byron,  from  the  last  London  edition,  and  is  the  most  com- 
plete printed  in  the  country. 


THE  DIAMOND   EDITION  OF  SHAKSPEARE, 

(COMPLETE   IN    ONE   VOLUME,) 

XCTCXiUDXCTG  A  SKETCH  OF  HIS  LIFE. 

UNIFORM  WITH  BYRON  AND  MOORE. 

THE    ABOVE    WORKS    CAN   BE    HAD    IN    SEVERAL    VARIETIES    OF    BINDING. 

GOLDSMITH'S  ANIMATED  NATURE. 

IN    TWO   VOLUMES,   OCTAVO. 
BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED  WITH  385  PLATES. 

CONTAINING  A  HISTORY  OF  THE  EARTH,  ANIMALS,  BIRDS,  AND  FISHES;  FORMING 
THE  MOST  COMPLETE  NATURAL  HISTORY  EVER  PUBLISHED. 

This  is  a  work  that  should  be  in  the  library  of  every  family,  having  been  written  by  one  of  the 
most  talented  authors  in  the  English  language. 

"  Goldsmith  can  never  be  made  obsolete  while  delicate  genius,  exquisite  feeling,  fine  invention, 
the  most  harmonious  metre,  and  the  happiest  diction,  are  at  all  valued." 

BIGLA^D'S  NATURAL  HISTORY 

Of  Animals,  Birds.  Fishes,  Reptiles,  and  Insects.    Illustrated  with  numerous  and  beautiful  Engrav- 
ings.   By  JOHN  BIGLAND,  author  of  a  "  View  of  the  World,"  "  Letters  on 
Universal  History,"  <tc.    Complete  in  1  vol.,  12mo. 

11 


LXPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  POWER  AND  PROGRESS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


THE  UNITED  STATES;  Its  Power  and  Progress. 

BY  GUILLAinOTE    TELL  POUSSIH, 

LATE  MINISTER  OF  THE  REPUBLIC  OF  FRANCE  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

FIRST  AMERICAN,  FROM  THE  THIRD  PARIS  EDITION. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  BY  EDMOND  L.  DU  BARRY,  M.  D., 

SURGEON  U.  S.   NAVY. 

In  one  large  octavo  volume. 

SCHOOLCRAFT'S  GREAT  NATIONAL  WORK  ON  THE  INDIAN  TRIBES  OF 
THE  UNITED  STATES, 

WITH    BEAUTIFUL    AND   ACCURATE    COLOURED    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


HISTORICAL  M  STATISTICAL  INFORMATION 

RESPECTING    THE 

HISTORY,  CONDITION  AND  PROSPECTS 

OF    THE 

% notnn  Cribs  of  tf;t  itnifeo  $tatts. 

COLLECTED  AND  PREPARED  UNDFJK  THE  DIRECTION  OF  THE  BUREAU  OF  INDIAN 
AFFAIRS,  PER  ACT  OF  MARCH  3,  1847, 

B¥  HEETRir  H.  SCEOOLCIl^PT,  Xili-D. 

ILLUSTRATED  EY  S.  EASTMAN,   Caft.  U.  S.  A. 
PUBLISHED  BY  AUTHORITY  OF  CONGRESS. 

THE  AMERICAN  GARDENER'S  CALENDAR, 

ADAPTED  TO  THE  CLIMATE  AND  SEASONS  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

Containing:  a  complete  account  of  all  the  work  necessary  to  he  done  in  the  Kitchen  Garden,  Fruit 
Garden,  Orchard,  Vineyard,  Nursery,  Pleasure-Ground,  Flower  Garden,  Green-house,  Hot-house, 
and  Forcing;  Frames,  for  every  month  in  the  year ;  with  ample  Practical  Directions  for  performing 
the  same. 

Also,  general  as  well  as  minute  instructions  for  laying  out  or  erecting  each  and  every  of  the  above 
departments,  according  to  modern  taste  and  the  most  approved  plans;  the  Ornamental  Planting  of 
Pleasure  Grounds,  in  the  ancient  and  modern  style;  the  cultivation  of  Thorn  Quicks,  and  other 
plants  suitable  for  Live  Hedges,  with  the  best  methods  of  making  them.ic.  To  which  are  annexed 
catalogues  of  Kitchen  Garden  Plants  and  Herbs;  Aromatic.  Pot.  and  Sweet  Herbs;  Medicinal 
Plants,  and  the  most  important  Grapes,  i.c,  used  in  rural  economy;  with  the  soil  best  adapted  to 
their  cultivation.    Together  with  a  copious  Index  to  the  body  of  the  work. 

BY  BERNARD   M'MAHON. 
Tenth  Edition,  greatly  improved.    In  one  volume,  octavo. 

THE  USEFUL  AND  THE   BEAUTIFUL; 

OH,   DOMESTIC  AMD  MORAL   DUTIES    NSCESSABY  TQ^QChAL  MAT 


12 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  FARMER'S  AND  PLANTER'S  ENCYCLOP/EDIA. 


CJje-  /iirmrr's  anil  planter's  (Ennjrlrijiititia  nf  Rural  ffisxa. 

BY  CUTHBERT  W.  JOHNSON. 
ADAPTED  TO  THE  UNITED  STATES  BY  GOUVERNEUR  EMERSON. 

Illustrated  by  seventeen  beautiful  Engravings  of  Cattle,  Horses,  Sheep,  the  varieties  of  Wheat, 
Barley,  Oats,  Grasses,  the  Weeds  of  Agriculture.  <kc. ;  besides  numerous  Engrav- 
ings on  wood  of  the  most  important  implements  of  Agriculture,  &c. 
This  standard  work  contains  the  latest  and  best  information  upon  all  subjects  connected  with 
farming,  and  appertaining  to  the  country  ;  treating  of  the  great  crops  of  gram,  hay,  cotton,  hemp, 
tobacco,  rice,  sugar,  &c.  &c. ;  of  horses  and  mules ;  of  cattle,  with  minute  particulars  relating  to 
cheese  and  butter-making;  of  fowls,  including  a  description  of  capon-making,  with  drawings  of  the 
instruments  employed ;  of  bees,  and  the  Russian  and  other  systems  of  managing  bees  and  con- 
structing hives.    Long  articles  on  the  uses  and  preparation  of  bones,  lime,  guano,  and  all  sorts  of 
annual,  mineral,  and  vegetable  substances  employed  as  manures.  Descriptions  of  the  most  approved 
ploughs,  harrows,  threshers,  and  every  other  agricultural  machine  and  implement;  of  fruit  and 
shade  trees,  forest  trees,  and  shrubs ;  of  weeds,  and  all  kinds  of  flies,  and  destructive  worms  and 
insects,  and  the  best  means  of  getting  rid  of  them  ;  together  with  a  thousand  other  matters  relating 
to  rural  life,  about  which  information  is  so  constantly  desired  by  all  residents  of  the  country. 
IN    ONE    LARGE    OCTAVO    VOLUME. 

MASON'S  FARRIER-FARMERS'  EDITION. 

Price,  6  2  cents. 


THE  PRACTICAL  FARRIER,  FOR  FARMERS: 

COMPRISING    A    GENERAL    DESCRIPTION   OP  THE    NOELE   AND    USEFUL    ANIMAL, 

THE    HORSE; 

WITH  MODES  OF  MANAGEMENT  IN  ALL  CASES,  AND  TREATMENT  IN  DISEASE. 
TO    WHICH    IS    ADDED, 

A  PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  MULES  ■  AND  AN  APPENDIX, 

Containing  Recipes  for  Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  <tc.  &c. 

BIT  RICHARD  MASON,  2&.  D., 

Formerly  of  Surry  County,  Virginia. 

In  one  volume,  12mo.;    bound  in  cloth,   gilt. 

MASON'S  FARRIER  AND  STUD-BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 
THE  GENTLEMAN'S  NEW  POCKET  FARRIER: 

COMPRISING  A  GENERAL  DESCRIPTION  OF  THE  NOBLE  AND  USEFUL  ANIMAL, 

THE    HORSE; 

WITH  MODES  OF  MANAGEMENT  IN  ALL  CASES,  AND  TREATMENT  LN  DISEASE. 

B¥  KIGI2A21D  MiLSOST,  M.  D., 

Formerly  of  Surry  County,  Virginia. 

^o  which  is  added,  A  PRIZE  ESSAY  ON  MULES;  and  AN  APPENDIX,  containing  Recipes  for 

,  Diseases  of  Horses,  Oxen,  Cows,  Calves,  Sheep,  Dogs,  Swine,  <fec.  <kc. ;  with  Annals 

of  the  Turf,  American  Stud- Book,  Rules  for  Training,  Racing,  &c. 

WITH   A    SUPPLEMENT, 

Comprising  an  Essay  on  Domestic  Animals,  especially  the  Hor^e  ;  with  Remarks  on  Treatment  and 

Breeding;  together  with  Trotting  and  Racing  Tables,  show  ;ng  the  best  time  on  record  at  one 

two,  three  and  four  mile  heats  ;  Pedigrees  of  Winning  Horses,  since  1839,  and  of  the  most 

celebrated  Stallions  and  Mares;  with  useM  Calving  and  Lambing  Tables.    By 

J.  S.  SKINNER,  Editor  now  of  the  Farmer's  Library,  New  York,  ice.  &c. 

13 


LXPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

HINDS'S  FARRIERY  AND  STUD-BOOK-NEW  EDITION. 
FARMERY, 

TAUGHT  ON  A  NEW  AND  EASY  PLAN: 

BEING 

51  €xmtm  m  tip  t)imm  unit  5lrritottf3  nf  ijp  ISnm; 

With  Instructions  to  the  Shoeing  Smith,  Farrier,  and  Groom ;  preceded  by  a  Popular  Description  of 
the  Animal  Functions  in  Health,  and  how  these  are  to  be  restored  when  disordered. 

BY  JOHN    HINDS,  VETERINARY  SURGEON. 

With  considerable  Additions  and  Improvements,  partioulnrly  adapted  to  this  country, 

BY   THOMAS   M.    SMITH, 

Veterinary  Surgeon,  and  Member  of  the  London  Veterinary  Medical  Society. 


The  publishers  have  received  numerous  flattering  notices  of  the  great  practical  value  of  these 
works.  The  distinguished  editor  of  the  American  Farmer,  speaking  of  them,  observes:  — "  We 
cannot  too  highly  recommend  these  books,  and  therefore  advise  every  owner  of  a  horse  to  obtain 
them." 

"There  are  receipts  in  those  books  that  show  how  Founder  may  be  cured,  and  the  traveller  pur- 
sue his  journey  the  next  dav,  by  giving  a  tablespoonful  nf  alum.  This  was  got  from  Dr.  P.  ThornU-n. 
of  Montpelier,  Rappahannock  county,  Virginia,  as  founded  on  his  own  observation  in  several  cases." 

"  The  constant  demand  for  Mason's  and  Hinds's  Farrier  has  induced  the  publishers,  Messrs.  Lip- 
pincott,  Grambo  &  Co.,  to  put  forth  new  editions,  with  a  '  Supplement'  of  100pas;es,  by  J.  S.  Skinner, 
Esq.  We  should  have  sought  to  render  an  acceptable  service  to  our  agricultural  readers,  by  giving 
a  chapter  from  the  Supplement,  'On  the  Relations  between  Man  and  the  Domestic  Animals,  espe- 
cially the  Horse,  and  the  Obligations  they  impose  ;'  or  the  one  on  'The  Form  of  Animals;'  but  that 
either  one  of  them  would  overrun  the  space  here  allotted  to  such  subjects." 

"  Lists  of  Medicines,  and  other  articles  which  ought  to  be  at  hand  about  every  training  and  livery 
stable,  and  every  Fanner's  and  Breeder's  establishment,  will  be  found  in  these  valuable  works." 


TG  CARPENTERS  AND  MECHANICS 

Just  Published. 


A  NEW  AND  IMPROVED  EDITION  OF 

THE  CARPENTER'S  NEW  GUIDE, 

BEING  A  COMPLETE  BOOK  OF  LINES  FOR 

ARPENTHY   AND  JOINERY; 

Treating  fully  on  Practical  Geometry,  Saffifs  Brick  and  Plaster  Groins,  Niches  of  every  description, 

Sky-lights,  Lines  for  Roofs  and  Domes:  with  a  great  variety  of  Designs  for  Roofs, 

Trussed  Gilders,  Floors,  Domes,  Bridges,  &c,  Angle  Bars  for  Shop 

Fronts,  &c,  and  Raking  Mouldings. 

ALSO, 

Additional  Plans  for  various  Stair-Cases,  with  the  Lines  for  producing  the  Face  and  Falling  Moulds. 

never  before  published,  and  greatly  superior  to  those  given  in  a  former  edition  of  this  work. 

BY   WILLIAM  JOHNSON,   ARCHITECT, 

OF    PHILADELPHIA. 

The  whole  founded  on  true  Geometrical  Principles;  the  Theory  and  Practice  well  explained  and 
fully  exemplified,  on  eighty-three  copper  plates,  including  some  Observations  and  Calculations  on 
the  Strength  of  Timber. 

BY    PETER     NICHOLSON, 

Author  of  "The  Carpenter  and  Jouer's  Assistant,"  "The  Student's  Instructor  to  the  Fiva 

Orders,"  &c. 

Thirteenth  Edition.     One  volume,  4to.,  well  bound. 
11 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

A  DICTIONARY  OF  SELECT  AND  POPULAR  QUOTATIONS, 

WHICH  ARE  IN  DAILY  USE. 

TAKEN  FROM  THE  LATIN,  FRENCH,  GREEK,  SPANISH  AND  ITALIAN  LANGUAGES. 

Together  with  a  copious  Collection  of  Law  Maxims  and  Law  Terms,  translated  into 

English,  with  Illustrations,  Historical  and  Idiomatic. 

NEW  AMERICAN  EDITION,  CORRECTED,  WITH  ADDITIONS, 

One  volume,    12mo. 

This  volume  comprises  a  copious  collection  of  legal  and  other  terms  which  are  in  common  use, 
with  English  translations  anil  historical  illustrations;  and  we  should  judge  its  author  had  surely 
been  to  a  great  "Feast  of  Languages,"  and  stole  all  the  scraps.  A  work  of  this  character  should 
have  an  extensive  sale,  as  it  entirely  obviates  a  serious  difficulty  in  which  most  readers  are  involved 
by  the  frequent  occurrence  of  Latin,  Greek,  and  French  passages,  which  we  suppose  are  introduced 
by  authors  for  a  mere  show  of  learning  — a  difficulty  very  perplexing  to  renders  in  general.  This 
"  Dictionary  of  Quotations,"  concerning  which  too  much  cannot  be  said  in  its  favour,  effectually 
removes  the  difficulty, and  gives  the  reader  an  advantage  over  the  author;  for  we  helieve  a  majority 
are  themselves  ignorant,  of  the  meaning  of  the  terms  they  employ.  Very  few  truly  learned  authors 
will  insult  their  readers  by  introducing  Latin  or  French  quotations  in  their  writings,  when  "plain 
English"  will  do  as  well ;  but  we  will  not  enlarge  on  this  point. 

If  the  book  is  useful  to  those  unacquainted  with  other  languages,  it  is  no  less  valuable  to  the 
classically  educated  as  a  book  of  reference,  and  answers  all  the  purposes  of  a  Lexicon  —  indeed,  on 
many  accounts,  it  is  better.  It  saves  the  trouble  of  tumbling  over  the  larger  volumes,  to  which 
every  one.  and  especially  those  engaged  in  the  legal  profession,  are  verv  often  subjected.  It  should 
have  a  place  in  every  library  in  the  country. 


RUSCHENBERGER'S  NATURAL  HISTORY 

COMPLETE,     WITH    NEW    GLOSSARY. 


€\)i  (BUminls  of  Hatural  W\shn\, 

EMBRACING    ZOOLOGY,   BOTANY   AND  GEOLOGY: 

FOR  SCHOOLS,  COLLEGES  AND  FAMILIES. 


IN    TWO    VOLUMES. 

WITH  NEARLY  ONE  THOUSAND   ILLUSTRATIONS,   AND   A    COPIOUS   GLOSSARY. 

Vol.  1.  contains  Vertebrate  Animals.    Vol.  II.  contains  Intervertebrate  Animals,  Botany,  and  Geology. 

A  Beautiful  and  Valuable  Presentation  Book. 


THE    POET'S    OFFERING. 

EDITED   BY   MRS.    HALE. 
With  a  Portrait  of  the  Editress,  a  Splendid  Illuminated  Title-Page,  and  Twelve  Beautiful  Engrav- 
ings by  Sartain.    Bound  in  rich  Turkey  Morocco,  and  Extra  Cloth,  Gilt  Edge. 
To  those  who  wish  to  make  a  present  that  will  never  lose  its  value,  this  will  be  found  the  most 
desirable  Gift- Book  ever  published. 

"  We  commend  it  to  all  who  desire  to  present  a  friend  with  a  volume  not  only  verv  beautiful,  but 
of  solid  intrinsic  value."  —  Washington  Union. 

"A  perfect  treasury  of  the  thoughts  and  fancies  of  the  best  English  and  American  Poets.  The 
paper  and  printing  are.  beautiful,  and  the  binding  rich,  elegant,  and  substantial;  Hie  most  sensible 
and  attractive  of  all  the  elegant  gift-books  we  have  seen."  —  Evening  Bulletin. 

•'The  publishers  deserve  the  thanks  of  the  public  for  so  happy  a  thought,  so  well  executed.  The 
engravings  are  bv  ihe  best  artists,  and  the  otiier  portions  of  the  work  correspond  in  ele-ance  "  — 
Public  Ltrtffi  r 

■•  There  is  no  hook  of  selections  so  diversified  and  appropriate  within  our  knowledge." — Pennsylv'71. 

"  It  is  one  of  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  elegant  books  ever  published  in  this  country."  —  Gudey's 
Lady's  Book. 

"  it  is  the  most  beautiful  and  the  most  useful  offering  ever  bestowed  on  the  public.  No  individual 
of  literary  taste  will  venture  to  be  without  it."—  Tfve  City  Item. 

15 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  YOUNG  DOMINICAN; 
OR,  THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  INQUISITION, 

AND  OTHER  SECRET  SOCIETIES  OF  SPAIN. 
BY  M.  V.  DE  FEREAL. 

WITH   HISTORICAL   NOTES,   BY  M,  MANUEL   DE   CUENDIAS, 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    FRENCH. 
ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TWENTY  SPLENDID  ENGRAVINGS  BY  FRENCH  ARTISTS 

One  volume,  octavo. 

SAY'S  POLITICAL  ECONOMY. 


A  TREATISE  ON  POLITICAL  ECONOMY; 
Or,  The  Production,  Distribution  and  Consumption  of  Wealth. 

BIT  JE.&.XT  BAPTISTS   SA1T. 

FIFTH   AMERICAN    EDITION,   WITH    ADDITIONAL   NOTES, 
BY  C.   C.    BIDDLE,    Esq. 

In  one  volume,  octavo. 

It  would  be  beneficial  to  our  country  if  all  those  who  are  aspiring  to  office,  were  required  by  their 
constituents  to  be  familiar  with  the  pages  of  Say. 

The  distinguished  biographer  of  the  author,  in  noticing  this  work,  observes  :  "  Happily  for  science, 
he  commenced  that  study  which  forms  the  basis  of  his  admirable  Treatise  on  Political  Economy ;  a 
work  which  not  only  improved  under  his  hand  with  every  successive  edition,  but  has  been  translated 
into  most  of  the  European  languages." 

The  Editor  of  the  North  American  Review,  speaking  of  Say,  observes,  that  "he  is  the  most 
popular,  and  perhaps  the  most  able  writer  on  Political  Economy,  since  the  time  of  Smith." 

LAURENCE  STERNE'S  WORKS, 

WITH  A  LIFE  OF  THE  AUTHOR: 

WRITTEN    BY   HIMSELF. 

WITH   SEVEN  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS,   ENGRAVED  BY   GILBERT   AND   GIHON, 
FROM  DESIGNS  BY  DARLEY. 

One   volume,    octavo;    cloth,    gilt. 

To  commend  or  to  criticise  Sterne's  Works,  in  this  age  of  the  world,  would  be  all  "  wasteful  and 
extravagant  excess."  Uncle  Toby  — Corporal  Trim  —  the  Widow  —  Le  Fevre  —  Poor  Maria  — the 
Captive  — even  the  Dead  Ass,  —  this  is  all  we  have  to  say  of  Sterne  ;  and  in  the  memory  of  these 
characters,  histories,  and  sketches,  a  thousand  follies  and  worse  than  follies  are  forgotten.  The 
volume  is  a  very  handsome  one. 

THE  MEXICAN  WARnAH0  IIS  HEROES; 

A  COMPLETE  HISTORY  OF  THE  MEXICAN  WAR, 

EMBRACING   ALL   THE   OPERATIONS    UNDER   GENERALS    TAYLOR  AND   SCOTT. 

WITH  A  BIOGRAPHY  OF  THE  OFFICERS. 

ALSO, 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  CONQUEST  OF  CALIFORNIA  AND  NEW  MEXICO, 

Under  Gen.  Kearny,  Cols.  Doniphan  and  Fremont.    Together  with  Numerous  Anecdotes  of  the 

War,  and  Personal  Adventures  of  the  Officers.    Illustrated  with  Accurate 

Portraits,  and  other  Beautiful  Engravings. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 
16 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 


NEW  AND  COMPLETE  COOK-BOOK, 


THE  PRACTICAL  COOK-BOOK, 

CONTAINING   UPWARDS    OF 

OHE  THOUSAND  RECEIPTS, 

Consisting  of  Directions  for  Selecting,  Preparing,  and  Cooking  all  kinds  of  Meats,  Fish,  Poultry,  and 
Game;  Soups,  Broths,  Vegetables,  and  Salads.    Also,  for  making  all  kinds  of  Plain  and 
Fancy  Breads,  Pastes,  Puddings,  Cakes,  Creams,  Ices,  Jellies,  Preserves,  Marma- 
lades, <tc.  &c.  &.c.    Together  with  various  Miscellaneous  Recipes, 
and  numerous  Preparations  for  Invalids. 

BY  MRS.   BLISS. 
In   one   volume,    12mo. 


€\i  (City  3Kmjjirat ;  nr,  €\)t  Mplnimx  /utter*. 

BY   J.  B.  JOITES, 

AUTHOR  OF  "WILD  WESTERN  SCENES,"  "THE  WESTERN  MERCHANT,"  &C. 

ILLUSTRATED  WITH  TEN   ENGRAVINGS. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 


EL  PUCIIERO ;  or,  A  Mixed  Dish  from  Mexico. 

EMBRACING  GENERAL  SCOTT'S  CAMPAIGN,  WITH  SKETCHES  OF  MILITARY  LIFE  IN 

FIELD  AND  CAMP;  OF  THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  COUNTRY,  MANNERS 

AND  WAYS  OF  THE  PEOPLE,  &o. 

BY  RICHARD  M 'SHERRY,  M.  D.,  U.  S.  N„ 

LATE  ACTING  SURGEON  OF  REGIMENT  OF  MARINES. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 
WITH     NUMEROUS    ILLUSTRATIONS. 

MONiir-BAes  and  titles  -. 

A  HIT  AT  THE  FOLLIES  OF  THE  AGE. 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  FRENCH  OF  JULES  SANDEAU. 

BY   LEONARD    MYERS. 

One  volume,  12mo. 
"'Money-Bags  and  Tines'  is  quite  a  remarkable  work,  amounts  to  a  kindly  exposure  of  the  folly 
of  human  pride,  and  also  presents  at  once  the  evil  and  the  remedy.  If  good-natured  ridicule  of 
the  impostures  practised  by  a  set  of  self  styled  reformers,  who  have  nothing  to  lose,  and  to  whom 
change  must  be  gain  —  if,  in  short,  a  delineation  of  the  mistaken  ideas  which  prevent,  and  the 
means  which  conduce  to  happiness.be  traits  deserving  of  commendation,— the  reader  will  find 
much  to  enlist  his  attention  and  win  his  approbation  in  the  pages  of  this  unpretending,  but  truly 
meritorious  publication." 

WHAT  IS  CHURCH  HISTORY? 

A  VINDICATION  OF  THE  IDEA  OF  HISTORICAL  DEVELOPMENTS. 

BY  PHILIP   SCHAF. 

TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    GERMAN. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

17 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

DODD'S  LECTURES. 


DISCOURSES  TO  YOUNG  MEN. 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  NUMEROUS  HIGHLY  INTERESTING  ANECDOTES. 

BY  WILLIAM  DODD,   LL.D., 

CHAPLAIN    IN    ORDINARY    TO    HIS    MAJESTY    GEORGE    THE    THIRD. 

FIRST  AMERICAN  EDITION,  WITH  ENGRAVINGS. 

One  volume,  18mo. 

THE  IRIS: 

AN   ORIGINAL  SOUVENIR. 
"With  Contributions  from  the  First  Writers  in  the  Country. 

EDITED   BY  PROF.   JOHN   S.   HART. 

With  Splendid  Illuminations  and  Steel  Engraving.    Bound  in  Turkey  Morocco  and  rich  Papier 

Mache  Binding. 

IN    ONE    VOLUME,    OCTAVO. 

Its  contents  are  entirely  original.    Among  the  contributors  are  names  well  known  in  the  republic 

of  letters ;  such  as  Mr.  Boker,  Mr.  Stoddard,  Prof.  Moffat,  Edith  May,  Mrs.  Sigourney,  Caroline  May, 

Mrs.  Kinney,  .Mrs  Butler,  Mrs.  Pease,  Mrs.  Swift,  Mr.  Van  Bibber,  Rev.  Charles  T.  Brooks,  Mrs. 

Dorr,  Erast.us  W.  Ellsworth,  Miss  E.  W.  Barnes,  Mrs.  Williams,  Mary  Young,  Dr.  Gardette,  Alice 

Carey,  Phebe  Carey,  Augusta  Browne,  Hamilton  Browne,  Caroline  Eustis,  Margaret  Junkin,  Maria 

J.  B.  Browne,  Miss  Starr.  Mrs.  Brotherson,  Kate  Campbell,  &c. 

$wb  from  ftje  |amit  Mini] 

OK,  HOLY  THOUGHTS  UPON  SACRED  SUBJECTS. 

BY  CLERGYMEN  OF  THE  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH. 
EDITED  BY  THOMAS  WYATT,  A.M. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

WITH   SEVEN   BEAUTIFUL   STEEL  ENGRAVINGS. 

The  contents  of  this  work  are  chiefly  by  clergymen  of  the  Episcopal  Church.  Among  the  con- 
tributors will  be  found  the  names  of  the  Right  Rev.  Bishop  Potter,  Bishop  Hopkins,  Bishop  Smith, 
Bishop  Johns,  and  Bishop  Doane  ;  and  the  Rev.  Drs.  H.  V.  D.  Johns,  Coleman,  and  Butler ;  Rev.  G. 
T.  Bedell,  M'Cabe,  Ogilsby,  &c.  The  illustrations  are  rich  and  exquisitely  wrought  engravings  upon 
t,ie  following  subjects :—" Samuel  before  Eli,"  "Peter  and  John  healing  the  Lame  Man,"  "The 
Resurrection  of  Christ,"'  "  Joseph  sold  by  his  Brethren,"  "  The  Tables  of  the  Law."  "  Christ's 
Agony  in  the  Garden,"  and  "The  Flight  into  Egypt."  These  subjects,  with  many  others  in  prose 
and  verse,  are  ably  treated  throughout  the  work. 

HAW-HO-NQO: 

OR,  THE  RECORDS  OF  A  TOURIST. 

BY  CHARLES  LAWMAN, 
Author  of  "  A  Summer  in  the  Wilderness,"  &c.  In  one  volume,  12mo. 
"  In  the  present  book,  'Haw-ho-voo,1  (an  Indian  name,  by  the  way,  for  America,)  the  author  has 
gathered  up  some  of  the  relics  of  his  former  tours,  and  added  to  them  other  interesting  matter.  It 
contains  a  number  of  carefully  written  and  instructive  articles  upon  the  various  kinds  offish  in  our 
country,  whose  capture  affords  sport  for  anglers  ;  reminiscences  of  unique  incidents,  manners,  and 
customs  in  different  parts  of  the  country ;  and  other  articles,  narrative,  descriptive,  and  sentimental. 
In  a  supplement  are  gathered  many  curious  Indian  legends.  They  are  related  with  great  simplicity 
and  clearness,  and  will  be  of  service  hereafter  to  the  poem  makers  of  America.  Many  of  th-em  are 
rjuite  beautiful."  —  National  Intelligencer. 

18 


LIPPINCOTT,  GUAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

LONZ  POWERS;  Or,  The  Regulators. 
A  ROMANCE  OF  KENTUCKY. 

FOUNDED    ON   FACTS. 

BY  JAIVIES  WEIR,  ESQ. 

IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 

The  scenes,  characters,  and  incidents  in  these  volumes  have  been  copied  from  nature,  and  from 

real  life.    They  are  represented  as  taking  place  at  that  period  in  the  history  of  Kentucky,  when 

the  Indian,  driven,  after  many  a  hard-fought  field,  from  his  favourite  hunting-ground,  was  succeeded 

by  a  rude  and  unlettered  population,  interspersed  with  organized  bands  of  desperadoes,  scarcely 

less  savage  than  the  red  men  they  had  displaced.    The  author  possesses  a  vigorous  and  graphic 

pen,  and  has  produced  a  very  interesting  romance,  which  gives  us  a  striking  portrait  of  the  times 

he  describes. 

THE  WESTERN  MERCHANT. 

A  NARRATIVE, 

Containing  useful  Instruction  for  the  Western  Man  of  Business,  who  makes  his  Purchases  in  the 
East.    Also,  Information  for  the  Eastern  Man,  whose  Customers  are  in  the  West. 
Likewise,  Hints  for  those  who  design  emigrating  to  the  West.    De- 
duced from  actual  experience. 

BY  LUKE  SKORTFIELD,  A  WESTERN  MERCHANT. 

One   volume,    12 mo. 

This  is  a  new  work,  and  will  be  found  very  interesting  to  the  Country  Merchant,  <tc.  <kc. 

A  sprightly,  pleasant  book,  with  a  vast  amount  of  information  in  a  very  agreeable  shape.  Busi- 
ness, Love,  and  Religion  are  all  discussed,  and  many  proper  sentiments  expressed  in  regard  to  each. 
The  "moral"  of  the  work  is  summed  up  in  the  following  concluding  sentences:  "Adhere  stead- 
fastly to  your  busmess  ;  adhere  steadfastly  to  your  first  love ;  adhere  steadfastly  to  the  church." 

A  MANUAL  OF  POLITENESS, 

COMPRISING   THE 

PRINCIPLES  OF  ETIQUETTE  AND  RULES  OF  BEHAVIOUR 

EN  GENTEEL  SOCIETY,  FOR  PERSONS  OF  BOTH  SEXES. 

18mo.,  with  Plates. 


Book  of  Politeness. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  AND  LADY'S 

BOOK  OF  POLITENESS  AND  PROPRIETY  OF  DEPORTMENT 

DEDICATED  TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  BOTH  SEXES. 

BY  EIADA3SE   CELNART. 

Translated  from  the  Sixth  Paris  Edition,  Enlarged  and  Improved. 

Fifth.    American    Edition. 

One  volume,  18mo. 

THE  ANTEDILUVIANS;  0r?  The  World  Destroyed. 

A  NARRATIVE  POEM,  IN  TEN  BOOKS. 

BY  JAMES  M'HEJJRY,  M.D. 

One  volume,  18mo. 

19 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO. '3  PUBLICATIONS. 

Bennett's  (Rev.  John)  Letters  to  a  Young  Lady, 

ON  A  VARIETY  OF  SUBJECTS  CALCULATED  TO  IMPROVE  THE  HEART, 
TO  FORM  THE  MANNERS,  AND  ENLIGHTEN  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

"  That  our  daughters  may  be  as  polished  corners  of  the  temple." 
The  publishers  sincerely  hope  (for  the  happiness  of  mankind)  that  a  copy  of  this  valuable  little 
work  will  be  found  the  companion  of  every  young  lady,  as  much  of  the  happiness  of  every  family 
Is  on  the  proper  cultivation  of  the  female  mind. 


THE  DAUGHTER'S  OWN  BOOK: 

OR,  PRACTICAL  HINiS  FROM  A  FATHER  TO  HIS  DAUGHTER. 

One  volume,  18mo. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  practical  and  truly  valuable  treatises  on  the  culture  and  discipline  of  the 
female  mind,  which  has  hitherto  been  publibhed  in  this  country  ;  and  the  publishers  are  very  confi- 
dent, from  the  great  demand  for  this  invaluable  little  work,  that  ere  long:  it  will  be  found  in  the 
library  of  every  young  lady. 

THE  AMERICAN  CHESTERFIELD : 

Or,  "Youth's  Guide  to  the  Way  to  Wealth,  Honour,  and  Distinction/'  k.   18mo. 

CONTAINING  ALSO  A  COMPLETE  TREATISE  ON  THE  ART  OF  CARVING. 

"We  most  cordially  recommend  the  American  Chesterfield  to  general  attention;  but  to  young 
persons  particularly,  as  one  of  the  best  works  of  the  kind  that  has  ever  been  published  in  this 
country.  It  cannot  be  too  highly  appreciated,  nor  its  perusal  be  unproductive  of  satisfaction  and 
Usefulness." 

SENECA'S   MORALS. 

BY  WAY  OF  ABSTRACT  TO  WHICH  IS  ADDED,  A  DISCOURSE  UNDER 

THE  TITLE  OF  AN  AFTER-THOUGHT. 

BYSIR    ROGER     L'ESTRANGE,    KNT. 

A  new,  fine  edition ;  one  volume,  18mo. 
A  copy  of  this  valuable  little  work  should  be  found  in  every  family  library. 

NEW  SONG-BOOK. 

dlrigp  $0ui[rtm  tmu  Wulnn  irmgsfer; 

BEING  A  CHOICE  COLLECTION  OF  THE  MOST  FASHIONABLE  SONGS,  MANY  OF  WHICH 
ARE  ORIGINAL. 

In  one  volume,  18mo. 

Great  care  was  taken,  in  the  selection,  to  admit  no  song  that  contained,  in  the  slightest  degree, 
any  indelicate  or  improper  allusions;  and  with  great  propriety  it  may  claim  the  title  of  "  The  Pai' 
lour  Song-Book,  or  Songster."    The  immortal  Shakspeare  observes  — 
"  The  man  that  hath  not  music  in  himself, 
Nor  is  not  moved  with  concord  of  sweet  sounds, 
Is  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and  spoils." 

ROBOTHAM'S  POCKET  FRENCH  DICTIONARY, 

CAREFULLY  REVISED, 

AND  THE  PRONUNCIATION  OF  ALL  THE  DIFFICULT  WORDS  ADDED. 

20 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

THE  LIFE  AND  OPINIONS  OF  TRISTRAM  SHANDY,  GENTLEMAN. 

COMPRISING    THE    HUMOROUS    ADVENTURES    OF 

UNCLE  TOBY  AND  CORPORAL   TRIM. 

BIT  I*.  STEHNE. 
Beautifully  Illustrated  by  Darley.    Stitched. 


A  SENTIMENTAL  JOURNEY. 

BY   L.    STERNS. 

Illustrated  as  above  by  Darley.     Stitched. 

The  beauties  of  this  author  are  so  well  known,  and  his  errors  in  style  and  expression  so  few ; 
far  between,  that  one  reads  with  renewed  delight  his  delicate  turns,  &c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  GENERAL  JACKSON, 

WITH  A  LIKENESS  OF  TIIE  OLD  HERO. 
One  volume,  1 8rno. 

LIFE   OF    PAUL    JONES. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 

WITH   ONE    HUNDRED   ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY  JAMES  HAMILTON. 
The  work  is  compiled  from  his  original  journals  and  correspondence,  and  includes  an  account  of 
his  services  in  the  American  Revolution,  and  in  the  war  between  the  Russians  and  Turks  m  the 
Black  Sea.  There  is  scarcely  any  Naval  Hero,  of  any  age,  who  combined  in  his  character  so  much 
of  the  adventurous,  skilful  and  daring,  as  Paul  Jones.  The  incidents  of  his  life  are  almost  as  start 
Img  and  absorbing  as  those  of  romance.  His  achievements  during  the  American  Revolution  — the 
fight  between  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  and  Serapis,  the  most  desperate  naval  action  on  record  — 
and  the  alarm  into  which,  with  so  small  a  force,  he  threw  the  coasts  of  England  and  Scotland  — are 
matters  comparatively  well  known  to  Americans ;  but  the  incidents  of  his  subsequent  career  have 
been  veiled  in  obscurity,  which  is  dissipated  by  this  biography.  A  book  like  this,  narrating  the 
actions  of  such  a  man,  ought  to  meet  with  an  extensive  sale,  and  become  as  popular  as  Robinson 
Crusoe  in  fiction,  or  Weems's  Life  of  Marion  and  Washington,  and  similar  books,  in  fact.  It  con- 
tains 400  pages,  has  a  handsome  portrait  and  medallion  likeness  of  Jones,  and  is  illustrated  with 
numerous  original  wood  engravings  of  naval  scenes  and  distuiguished  men  with  whom  he  was 
familiar. 

THE  6REIK  EXILEf 

Or,  A  Narrative  of  the  Captivity  and  Escape  of  Christophoms  Plato  Castanis, 

DURING    THE    MASS  ACHE    ON   THE   ISLAND    OF    SGIO   BY   THE   TURKS. 
TOGETHER  WITH  VARIOUS  ADVENTURES  IN  GREECE  AND  AMERICA. 

WRITTEN    BY    HIMSELF, 

Author  of  an  Essay  on  the  Ancient  and  Modern  Greek  Languages;  Interpretation  of  the  Attributes 

of  the  Principal  Fabulous  Deities  ;  The  Jewish  Maiden  of  Scio's  Citadel;  and 

the  Greek  Boy  in  the  Sunday-School. 

One  volume,  12mo. 

THE  YOUNG  CHORISTER; 

A.  Collection  of  New  and  Beautiful  Tunes,  adapted  to  the  use  of  Sabbath-Schools,  from  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  composers  ;  together  with  many  of  the  author's  compositions. 

EDITED  BY  MINARD  W.  WILSON. 
21 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  COYS  PUBLICATIONS. 

CAMP  LIFE  OF  A  VOLUNTEER. 

A  Campaign  in  Mexico;  Or,  A  Glimpse  at  Life  in  Camp. 

BY  "ONE  WHO  HAS  SEEN  THE  ELEPHANT." 

%\U  nf  (§?tural  3  at  [tan]  Cnrjlor, 

COMPRISING   A   NARRATIVE   OF   EVENTS   CONNECTED   WITH   HIS    PROFESSIONAL 
CAREER,  AND  AUTHENTIC  INCIDENTS  OF  HIS  EARLY  YEARS. 

BY  J.  REESE   FRY  AND  R.   T.  CONRAD. 

With  an  original  and  accurate  Portrait,  and  eleven  elegant  Illustrations,  by  Darley. 
In  one  handsome  12mo.  volume. 

"It  is  by  far  the  fullest  and  most  interesting  biography  of  General  Taylor  that  we  have  ever  seen." 
—Richmond  (  Whig)  Ckrwncle. 

"On  the  whole,  we  are  satisfied  that  this  volume  is  the  most  correct  and  comprehensive  one  yet 
published."  —  Hani's  Merchants'  Magazine. 

"The  superiority  of  this  edition  over  the  ephemeral  publications  of  the  day  consists  in  fuller  and 
more  authentic  accounts  of  Ins  family.  Ins  early  life,  and  Indian  wars.  The  narrative  of  his  pro- 
ceedings in  Mexico  is  drawn  partly  from  reliable  private  letters,  but  clnelly  from  his  own  official 
correspondence." 

"It  forms  a  cheap,  substantial,  and  attractive  volume,  and  one  which  should  be  read  at  the  fire- 
side of  every  family  who  desire  a  faitliiul  and  true  hie  of  the  Old  General." 


GENERAL  TAYLOR  AND  HIS  STAFF: 

Comprising  Memoirs  of  Generals  Taylor,  Worth,  Wool,  and  Butler;  Cols.  May,  Cross, Clay,  Hardin, 

Yelk  Hays,  and  other  distinguished  Officers  attached  to  General  Taylor's 

Army.    Interspersed  with 

NUMEROUS  ANECDOTES   OF  THE  MEXICAN   WAR, 

Mid  Personal  Adventures  of  the  Officers.    Compiled  from  Public  Documents  and  Private  Corre- 
spondence.   With 

ACCURATE  PORTRAITS,  AND  OTHER  BEAUTIFUL  ILLUSTRATIONS. 
In  one  volume,  12mo. 


GENERAL  SCOTT  AND  HIS  STAFF ; 

Comprising  Memoirs  of  Generals  Scott,  Twiggs,  Smith,  Quitman,  Shields,  Pillow,  Lane,  Cadwalader 

Patterson,  and  Pierce;  Cols.  Childs,  Riley,  Harney,  and  Butler;  and  other 

distinguished  officers  attached  to  General  Scott's  Army. 

TOGETHER    WITH 

Notices  of  General  Kearny,  Col.  Doniphan,  Col.  Fremont,  and  other  officers  distinguished  in  the 
Conquest  of  California  and  New  Mexico  ;  and  Personal  Adventures  of  the  Officers.    Com- 
piled from  Public  Documents  and  Private  Correspondence.    With 

ACCURATE   PORTRAITS,  AND  OTHER    BEAUTIFUL   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

In  one  volume,  12mo. 


THE  FAMILY  DENTIST, 

INCLUDING  THE  SURGICAL,  MEDICAL  AND  MECHANICAL  TREATMENT 

OF  THE  TEETH. 

Illustrated  with,  thirty-one   Engravings. 

By  CHARLES  A.  DU  BOUCHET,  M.  D.,  Dental  Surgeon. 

In  one  volume,  18mo. 

22 


LIPPINCOTT,  GRAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

MECHANICS  FOR  THE  MILLWRIGHT,  ENGINEER  AND  MACHINIST, 
CIVIL  ENGINEER,  AND  ARCHITECT: 

CONTAINING 

THE  PRINCIPLES  OF  MECHANICS  APPLIED  TO  MACHINERY 

Of  American  models,  Steam- Engines,   Water- Works,  Navigation,  Bridge-building,  <kc.   <tc    By 
FREDERICK   OVERMAN,  * 

Author  of  "  The  Manufacture  of  Iron,"  and  other  scientific  treatises. 

Illustrated  by  150  Engravings.     In  one  large  12mo.  volume. 

WILLIAMS'S  TRAVELLER'S  AMD  TOURIST'S  GUIDE 
Through  the  United  States,  Canada,  &c. 

This  hook  will  he  found  replete  with  information,  not  only  to  the  traveller,  but  likewise  to  the 
man  of  business.  In  its  preparation,  an  entirely  new  plan  has  been  adopted,  winch,  we  are  con- 
vinced, needs  only  a  trial  to  he  fully  appreciate/!. 

Anions?  its  many  valuable  features,  are  tables  showing  at  a  glance  the  distance,  fare,  and  time 
occupied  in  travel  lint?  from  'he  principal  cities  to  the  most  important  places  in  the  Union  ;  so  that 
the  question  frequently  asked,  without  obtaining  a  satisfactory  reply,  is  here  answered  m  full. 
Other  tables  show  me  distances  from  New  York,  &C.,  to  domestic  and  foreign  ports,  by  sea;  and 
also,  by  way  of  comparison,  from  New  York  and  Liverpool  to  the  principal  ports  beyond  and  around 
Cape  Horn,  ic,  as  well  as  via  the  Isthmus  of  Panama.  Accompanied  by  a  large  and  accurate  Map 
of  ..he  United  States,  including  a  separate  Map  of  California,  Oregon,  New  Mexico  and  Utah.  Also, 
a  Map  of  the  Island  of  Cuba,  and  Plan  of  the  City  and  Harbor  of  Havana;  and  a  Map  of  Niagara 
River  and  Falls 

THE  LEGISLATIVE  GUIDE: 

Containing  directions  for  conducting  business  in  the  House  of  Representatives;  the  Senate  of  the 
United  States;  the  Joint  Rules  of  both  Houses  ,  a  Synopsis  of  Jefferson's  Manual,  and  copious 
Indices;  together  with  a  concise  system  of  Rules  of  Order,  based  on  the  regulations  of  the 
V.  S.  Congress.     Designed  to  economise  time,  secure  uniformity  and  despatch  in  con- 
ducting  business  in  all  secular  meetings,  and  also  in  all  religious,  political,  and 
Legislative  Assemblies. 

BY  JOSEPH  BARTLETT  BURLEIGH,  LL.  D. 
In  one  volume,  12mo. 

This  is  considered  by  our  Judges  and  Congressmen  as  decidedly  the  best  work  of  the  kind  extant. 
Every  young  man  in  the  country  should  have  a  copy  of  this  book. 

THE  INITIALS;  A  Story  of  MoJern  Life. 

THREE  VOLUMES  OF  THE  LONDON  EDITION  COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME  12MO. 
A  new  novel,  equal  to  "Jane  Eyre." 

WILT)  WESTERN  SCENES: 

A  NARRATIVE  OF  ADVENTURES  IN  THE  WESTERN  WILDERNESS. 

Wherein  the   Exploits  of  Daniel  Boone,  the  Great  American  Pioneer,  are  particularly  described 

Also,  Minute  Accounts  of  Bear,  Deer,  and  Buffalo  Hunts  —  Desperate  Conflicts  with  the 

Savages — Fishing  and  Fowling  Adventures  —  Encounters  with  Serpents,  Mc. 

By  Luke  Siiortfield,  Author  of  "  The  Western  Merchant." 

BEAUTIFULLY  ILLUSTRATED.    One  volume,  12mo. 

POEMS  OF  THE  PLEASURES: 

Consisting  of  the  PLEASURES  OF  IMAGINATION,  by  Akenside  ;  the  PLEASURES  OF  MEMORY 

by  Samuel  Rogers;  the  PLEASURES  OF  HOPE,  by  Campbell;  and  the  PLEASURES  OP 

FRIENDSHIP,  by  M* Henry.    With  a  Memoir  cf  each  Author,  prepared  expressly 

for  this  work.     18mo. 

28 


LIPPINCOTT,  GEAMBO  &  CO.'S  PUBLICATIONS. 

BALDWIN'S  PRONOUNCING  GAZETTEER. 

A  PRONOUNCING  GAZETTEER:' 

CONTAINING 

TOPOGRAPHICAL,  STATISTICAL,  AND  OTHER  INFORMATION",  OF  ALL  THE  MORE  IM- 
PORTANT PLACES  IN  THE  KNOWN  WORLD,  FROM  THE  MOST 
RECENT  AND  AUTHENTIC  SOURCES. 

Assisted  by  several  other  Gentlemen. 

To  which  is  added  an  APPENDIX,  containing  more  than  TEN  THOUSAND  ADDITIONAL  NAMES, 
chiefly  of  the  small  Towns  and  Villages,  &c,  of  the  United  States  and  of  Mexico. 

NINTH   EDITION,  WITH   A   SUPPLEMENT, 

Giving  the  Pronunciation  of  near  two  thousand  names,  besides  those  pronounced  in  the  Original 
Work  :  Forming  in  itself  a  Complete  Vocabulary  of  Geographical  Pronunciation. 

ONE    VOLUME    12lIO. — PRICE,    $1.50. 

Sttjtsl'fl  librim]  far  fyt  Ihttstjjalu. 

Complete  in  Twelve  handsome  18mo.  Volumes,  bound  in  Scarlet  Cloth. 

1.  WOMAN'S  TRIALS;  OR.  TALES  AND  SKETCHES  FROM  THE  LIFE  AROUND  US: 

2.  MARRIED  LIFE;  ITS  SHADOWS  AND  SUNSHINE. 

3.  THE  TWO  WIVES;  OR  LOST  AND  WON. 

4.  THE  WAYS  OF  PROVIDENCE  ;  OR.  "  HE  DOETH  ALL  THINGS  WELL." 

5.  HOME  SCENES  AND  HOME  INFLUENCES. 

6.  STORIES  FOR  YOUNG  HOUSEKEEPERS. 

7.  LESSONS  IN  LIFE.  FOR  ALL  WHO  WILL  READ  THEM. 

8.  SEED-TIME  AND  HARVEST;   OR,  WHATSOEVER  A  MAN  SOWETH  THAT  SHALL  HE 

ALSO  REAP. 

9.  STORIES  FOR  PARENTS. 

10.  OFF-HAND  SKETCHES,  A  LITTLE  DASHED  WITH  HUMOR. 

11.  WORDS  FOR  THE  WISE. 

12.  THE  TRIED  AND  THE  TEMPTED. 

The  above  Series  are  sold  together  or  separate,  as  each  work  is  complete  in  itself.  No  Family  should 
be  without  u  copy  of  this  interesting  and  instructive  Series.  Price  Thirty-seven  and  a  Half  Cents  per 
Volume. 

FIELD'S  SCRAP  BOOK.— New  Edition. 


Jihrnrtj  itttii  Bferrliarao  Irritp  3tok\ 

Consisting  of  Tales  and  Anecdotes— Biographical,  Historical,  Patriotic,  Moral,  Religious,  and  Senti- 
mental Pieces,  in  Prose  and  Poetry. 

Compiled  by  WILLIAM  FIELDS. 

SECOND  EDITION,  REVISED  AND  IMPROVED. 

In  one  handsome  8vo.  Volume.    Price,  $2  00. 

THE   ARKANSAW   DOCTOR. 


THE  LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES  OF  AN  ARKANSAW  DOCTOR. 

BY  DAVID  RATTLEHEAD,  M.  D. 

"  The  Man  of  Scrapes." 
WITH  NUMEROUS  ILLUSTRATIONS.    PRICE  FIFTY  CENTS. 

THE  HUMAN  BODY  AND  ITS  CONNEXION  WITH  MAN. 

ILLUSTRATED   BY   THE    PRINCIPAL    ORGANS. 
BY   JAMES    JOHN    GARTH    WILKINSON, 

Member  of  the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  of  England. 
IN     ONE     VOLUME,      1  2  M  0  —  PRICE     $1    25. 

24 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 


0021126402 


